There are rots
Cradling our cots
Killing our lot
Having us bought
II
There are filth
Even in quilts
Causing us to wilt
Amidst all spilt
III
What dies today?
Breaths are taken
The world is shaken
Most are awake
And can change bake
But what dies from our rots?
What dies from our filth?
What dies from our ills today
To feed fat our lean progress?
Which monster within do I aim to kill
To pay progress’ bill?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) Jan. 9, 2017
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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