Long ago, bliss mottled

by the blight of depression

now my smile discolours,

myu leaves are no more green,

it seems fate has dethroned

me from joy

and crowned me with sadness

My soul frowns, the moon weeps,

as the broom of loneliness

sweeps me under the

mat of extinction,

spears that pierce and squeeze

my heart, questioning my status

with the raid of misfortune

All I have is a box of air,

I eat fungus for food

but I am not amoeba,

then I limp downcast,

where I shall bury my head

within the graves of earth

Financial suicide is not enough…

I need an emotional cyanide

such a catalyst to banish

me from living

and move to wher the

gloomy mountains are unseen,

but my heart shall smile

because my feet become

devoid of trekking towards invisible peace.

                                                      By Kakraba Afful