Akua cries at the ward
“Oh Lord!
What sins did my ancestor hoard
To accumulate problems warranting
A sword into my akosuakuma?”
In a coma is the birther
Who feels not the whether
But has caused so much bother
becoming her ward’s righteous toner
A toner with a sword for her akosuakuma
By her stillness
A hymen has died in filthiness,
Causing a vacuum of unwholesomeness
Causing tears of silliness
And her dignity thrashing her akosuakuma
Akua is a tiger overtaken by a cat
In a hurtful moment she sat
The cat took her heart
And left her bloated and fat
With a paper pushed through her akosuakuma
The lecturer tried and failed
And had her failed
She made him tailed-
In legs, her sweetness bailed
Him out as she kept her akosuakuma
It’s all about the akosuakuma
Akosua stands, but eyes are on Kuma
Always on Kuma, how the lecturer laughed in her akusuakuma.
Now Kuma is gone, In the name of one who gave hers for her
Unfortunate how lousy it is, and how she still sleeps in stillness.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
Mum Cee 