In this crazy multitude
I aim to lend this story I’m living some verisimilitude
‘Life is how you make it’ is a now a boring platitude
In the noise, I cringe at the seeming solitude
Sometimes, I sit in gratitude
Even though like the blind tomorrow’s happenings I know not in exactitude
My heart breeds an uncolourful attitude
No matter how much this head warns of its magnitude
The heart feels too wronged with thoughts of vain servitude
I have none left, no fortitude
Not that I engage in any moral turpitude
But feelings of me in a state of decrepitude
Sends me into a dense dangerous mental armoury
An armoury of mind that angers with no physical arms
Such a life, worrying solitude in the multitude
Surely makes an aggressive noisy mind
Which disturbs a peaceful body.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014
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