He who threads on the insurer’s path
Sees the ghosts of profits
In the clutch of misfortunes
And wears a protection charm
Always praying or exorcicing

He who threads on the path of danger
Plays with anger
Making happiness a stranger
One to be toyed and slaughtered
Even under the umbrella of blessings

Fingers of darkness
Grant all the invisible-wish
Night by night
Like gifts on golden platters
But how many see?

Light catches us in cliches
In centres of stages in mock smocks
As time ticks and tocks
While stating the fact that it rocks
Without caring about the praises of cocks
At its speeds flock and stocks

Vanishings eat our fleshes
Like stingy cats on scarce meat
In famine
Drawing no attention until
Their forks reach our docks
Making “had I known”
The most spoken phrases
In unclassable mouths
How cruel the world stands!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 31st July, 2016

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