It was a song she sung

One she sung that so stung

And freed blood that turned dung

Manuring pain which bitterness sprung

Oh I curse her tongue


I sought for the strong

But clung on straw which was not strong

And water longed but fire belonged

I swept but wept and kept the swept

Which the chaos did leave


She claimed an ancestor did call

For our chaos to turn into a ball

Thrown into a wall and make us dull

For a traveller did make one fall

One of our blood who stood so tall

Composing our song which stung

And had a wire which kept us in

Within the cycle of pain in matrimony

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016

(Photo Credit: Google pics)

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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