When orphans are slapped
In the confines of protection
By “saints without, monsters within”,
Whose eyes can penetrate for knowledge?
When little orphans
Who know no difference between the words
Pray and play are made to fast
For two weeks, which blessed Satan can go to their rescue?
All they feel is hunger
Hunger which makes their hatred stronger
Stronger to make them stranger
Stranger to show their anger
Oh who can help the girly orphans
Whose temples are made markets
For the selling of men so strange
And swept with concoction and tools
After they leave their dirt in them
To generate money for their wicked gods?
And why must those with love
Accept tags as orphans
When their loving parents
Turn their backs thinking they are left in safety
To profit those with greed?
Oh why has safety’s chamber,
Been occupied by greed in slumber?
Oh why must a grieving heart
See the pots of loneliness
Oh why must the restless feel
Thorns in the cool physically cool blanket?
Shame unto you monsters
Suited in saintly wool
Thy judgement tools are cooking
To feed they wicked souls soon!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015
(This was inspired by Anas Aremeyaw Anas’s Careless which is an undercover investigation in a children’s home which maltreat the orphans)