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He had a harum-scarum youth

His life an apotheosis of a moral-less soul

He thought all advisers nudniks

Who could blame him when his blood sat in a heating pan


He had no life mirror

In his living workable paradise

So wore the stains of faults like happy robes

Until the legs of his skin fell in the hands to pulling time


Who can fetch the years gone bad

And fix the body its rot has eaten?

His mind regrets its sorry journey

Which knew no bliss of correction

But who will remedy? Discern directions from this, ye boiling blood

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) October 19, 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. :)

5 replies on “FOR BOILING BLOOD”

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