ABOVE PAIN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At this point

The hunter can gather its game

In the forest

And tell it the story

Of the eater and the eaten

I do not care

 

At this point

Time can walk like a taunting trolley

Ringing its irritating bell

Waking the dead

To know its whereabouts

I do not care

 

At this point

The owl may open its eyes

Like a scary moon

Leading witches like soldiers coming for the innocent

Holding many equipments and firing barrels

I do not care

 

At this point

At this particular juncture

At this present state

In this present house of two legs

And two hands

I don’t care a hoot.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014