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







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