Dead sins resurrect

When their children call collect

They have a perpetual connect

Their catalyst, one who sternly inspect


Marrying your sins

And procreating in sealed tins

Make them grow fins

Like live fishes with strong resting wings


As cool rains on heated days

A sin child covers shame decays

But does dug deep and cooks betrays

While stocking and drying more fire hays


All they need is a call to feed

They break tins to succeed

By killing prestige, honour and trust seed

With the bitings of their breed


As you think of keeping them

You are strengthening their stem

You think you are still firm

They thicken the shame to make you squirm


When their hays catch fire

Their fins get wire

To whip in the fire

Burning their creator to extinct in their desire

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015


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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