false preachers

The sickness, her life craves

The preacher promises a god which saves

So her mother leaves her in his care

At night he gets his share

He, like the preacher he claims,

For her beads, to pray, aims,

Gets possessed and damages her more

Gaining more pleasure and leaving her sore

His nightly prayers continue

Her sores become more

Sickness raves mad

Sores eat her

Her mother fasts

Passing through many roads of prayers on an empty stomach

Leaving her walking in bones

But the situation deteriorates

Devils in veils of the perfect parody of the Messiah!

She is human

Human needing humane hands

Stop counting her beads in prayers!

And get real religious beads

Then, and only then,

Will the hell fire you preach of

Seize to taunt you with consumption in your sleep

And stop your beds from witnessing you weep

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014


By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)


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