Sordid trust
"O friendly wid,
please tell Felicia, I can't
come home, tonight;
My confidence is surely impotent,
and shall not live on
to the joyous breed of marriage,
shyness does my soul tether
yet it blends senselessness
in my faint-rescuing words,
with a senseless sense
that attempt to save my spirit
from the internal death
by a confession imprisoned
by a forlorn, extrapolating fear
O friendly fog,
surely you can whisper
into Fantastic Felicia's ear,
tell her of my unborn absence
She marries another man,
my eyes cannot live to see it
As I weep dearly,
with a bleeding heart,
my hands turn to dust,
so is my entire being,
there, my past existence
can blend with the sand
and lay there forever."
By Kakraba Afful
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