As I look through this glass of ridiculousness
And chuckle through this surprise of your shamelessness
I’m left with no words to describe your kind
Your ego sits on the highest stool of your king
Thanks to your born feathers of riches
So you call that sweet soul –
And call those skilled hands-
…your foot mat
Now you want to employ me as what?
…your decorative cup?
And you pride at your bargain?
Take off your feathers of wealth
…one at a time
And get into the clothes of your dog
If you’re able to contain even three feet
…in your foot mat’s stead
I will consider you
…a germinating human bean
…oh you were expecting a being?
If you’re born on an anthill
…treat not those who need to dig clay
…as your fooling tools
They’ll live way better
If they so wish
So use your wealth to buy some manners
From the store of common sense
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © June 5, 2019