As the sky tears thunderously
In many spirited drops from its vast eyelid
I am ten thousand hot minds and one
Forced into a little boxy shivering me
Which strand of thought is it going to be?
Will the right one pop up for me to see?
Is there a true mind-teller who can work it like maths for a fee?
My head rebels like an angry teenager
Who can blame it?
No peace soldier dares to intercept
As the heart is blocked from entry
Shutting the creator up
To stay away from the mess He has created
How every living thing the eyes see shiver in cold
And how this little head has thoughts at war
Is like an unsolvable puzzle
Too cold and too hot
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015