SHOOT HIM (FOR 18+)

You sit and watch,

The hands which has a fenced mouth

Through which your disrespectful sermons walk out with ease,

Touch and caress your sacred temple

As its legs kneel in the tightly closed doors of “mock to” ears

And you do nothing?

Shoot him! Shoot that freaking son from a rabies dog!

 

II

You think he, oh, pardon my manners, it, is fine?

What good is an attractive bottle

When it holds poison as it smiles?

Believe me, there is no greater danger

Than attractive frames holding horrid contents

So I repeat, shoot him!

Shoot that one who has made its gateway hole a sorry gutter!

 

III

Each of its touch

Spells insults, and holds knives

Which dig into the insults

Wishing to pull your heart out of your bones.

It won’t end there; another will step into your shoes

When you taste the tasteless fate of the hungry pythoness death

And it gets worse, so shoot him! Shoot that excuse of life and let the world be free.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2015