Now there’s a wilted bouquet of roses,
the ticks are happily eating the candy on the cold floor,
his suit hungs upon a chair,
it’s reflection on the cold, hard mirror
a calendar surely had the 23rd of september
circled,
he looked into the mirror,
as he held five broken hearts in his hand,
and the wept with blood,

he sat down, smiling at his fifth,
devilish deed,
red eyes, lusting for revenge of
the feminine generation,
he angrily but happily looked at the
tip of his fingers, now infested wtih claws,
to tear their arteries apart,
making those girls, heartless, as they
wept sorrowfully day and night,
as they were heartless, infected them
with them same disease (cardiac crack or heart break)

He heavy glared at the truthful mirror,
where he witness how heart break had
mutated him by the power of the looming twilight,
he sorrowfully noticed his forlorn, thick fur
and sabertooth fangs,
ready to sink their teeth into the next heart,
he cried while devouring it,
and howled with pleasure,
but the tiny relict of kindness wished
that handsome, sweet guy we
overcome this curse, this covenant of sadness
he unfortunately found in love,
noticing what he had done for the fifth time,
he sincerely wished in didn’t have to be this way.
                                                                              By Kakraba Afful