by the fiendishness of an evil valley
look at the bungalow,
it’s windows, philosophical eyes,
are pierced, broken
because it’s raining darts

the rebellion of difference continues,
first, it is the hail of darts,
then just arrows,
then arrows of fire,
there’s a profound loneliness
in this domain bathing with the shadows,
baptised by the gigantic cobwebs
of fat negligence

In this domain,
books lie awaiting the eyes
that will unite them to the
upgradation of the mind,
eyes the will see the apex
of development in this
dormant generation that sleeps
out of the drowsiness of ignorance
of the generation

but the arrows fly happily,
destroying knowledge,
hoping to see printed words no more,
watching the papers sink
into the sea of wicked fire,
and its tyrannical burns
that destroy knowledge
and bring about explosive illiteracy,
leading to the future
desertification of the same rebellious minds.
                                                        By Kakraba Afful