I saw everything,I knew what was happening,my intuition triggered at the right,my reason fathomed all the evidence conversed.
All I wanted was the infamous peace which came estranged to me,the dove up high above,let's soar and glide in the air reversed.
I wish I could but explain my dear fellow friends on why everything is strange,a straight divergent from the heavens,my dear you were made not to fit in.
Perhaps my melancholy will take this waltz with me and my dipsomania will lead me to the frenzied thirst of Scotch,a piercing sensation runs down my hands like a prickly pin.
At the top of the mountain Kilimanjaro,did I indulge into my rehabilitation far from prying eyes and discouraging remarks,the point of the recovery is to find only me.
Breath in, exhale out, thumbs up to I little Missy,the chip of the old block brimmed with gay and ferocious demeanor yet it all came to an abrupt standstill as in a squashed bee.
Yesterday I was, tomorrow I will be,the relevance of it all amount to naught and much more distraught.
Life,why does our relationship fall to rock bottom, always between the devil and the deep blue sea,torn between principle and practicality,I know not which one to condone, finding me besought.
Several things have been said,the spite spewed out like a toxic sewage,the canker of it sniffs too foul to the very being.
One day,one night in seasons to come will be my time to crossover, though not to the best of both worlds,thus said the night owl,"I'll bide my time"with eyes wide and wake to the seeing.
Abracadabra,the wand in my quivering hands sought to cast the spell of peace yet did not come to be,I still feel torn on the inside and miserable on the outside,can one take more hits from all corners.
Cloaked and clothed in black,the widow let's out a loud cry of astonishing pain and anguish,what a loss though I do not know who the departed is,sigh as I watch on at the bereaved mourners.
Hello mighty sailor,how low be it in today's spirits,here we are now so entertain us,the show must definitely go on despite loose ends.
Clutching onto my heavy skirts, I run to and fro on the wheatgrass,gallivanted around with no greetings or farewells,a rebel spirit,I despise the docile and the tamed, the dreading thus pends.
Encore,bravo,a standing ovation of the artistic cults jolts up my confidence,there is truth in liberation, came as I were but today no more..
Staring at the elites of the upper class society,it be best they do not ridicule my apparel,I'm no beggar for coins,I came to dominate, though the strategy I conspired was to serve in the former and to be served in the latter, yet amidst laughter and incoherent whispers,it lulls though to a bore.


Author: Francisca

© @Opoku Francisca