Many cry of ingratitude
Many fight against some attitude
Many push in fortitude
Almost all forget
That even corn on the cob
Are never on a level
The pest corns are prized
The stronger either bowing to bowel spewings
Or helping fire to stand
An all fair world, I know, will be a tree of suicide
Even the hand cannot boast of being irreplaceable
And the fingers cannot compare themselves to the heart
All other body parts know their deaths
Will never shake a determined heart
Not even eyes
So like a sun unready to set
Rise no matter how wronged
Make your crown
A crown fit for only your head
In minds whose notebooks are filled with your hate
None takes medicine for the sick
Is an old prized saying
That even the most foolish can relate
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2015

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