I am like a peacock
Feathery in coloured beauty
All eyes see is the pride that hides my painful ride
All mouths rap are rumours in parcelled fancy
About my stretches which naught fetches for their eyes
Most ears love the sound of my wrong in the spit of a tongue
None sees the scar beneath the feathers
Funny, they watch from a blurred distance
I am like a goat
My fur milking my sweat dry
Confusing my audience
Even when life hits in thundering strikes
They confuse my jump of pain and shake for sanes
Claiming disobedience when I walk on live coals
For things of my interest
None cares to know about the scar which drives my need
I have a scar
Which has bought for me an expensive and durable insomnia
A seed freezing stiffly, shaking painfully
In jerks of spittles and fecals
In the town of sleep
Caring not about time
Caring not about place
Caring not about an occasion
Always fighting with swords to light its wounds
Why can’t they see?
Why can’t they see the tears which drives my fears
In a dark tainted expensive limousine of no salvation?
Why can’t they hear
The heart which stops to beat and beats to wail
In a heavy wall of loneliness situated amidst the taunting chaos?
Why can’t they see my fall on the bridge of success?
Could it be they are too low to see?
Why do heavy boots kick my name
Into gutters of shame
A shame they are hunting for keeps?
I wish they see what drives their greed
So they can be freed from their shackles of inner and outer battles
For in this rattles of horror
I am trying
Trying hard to hold my own
Mending my scar the best I can
Even in its taste for swords of woundy rekindling
But then again
Why is this dramatic mind confusing few for all
Buying sorrows in my precious vault
With currencies of over thinking?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © Dec. 30, 2017