The planet called melancholy
Your comfort has been stabbed
by the rebellion of happiness,
well I must say,
you're under siege,
all people seemed to had fled from the world,
but you seemed to have
escaped from the ruthlessness
of the earth
to the Hitlery of a bottomless ditch
Thoughts, black as sin,
you are eclipsed with sorrow,
wondering, thinking
when happiness shall return,
it has long been assassinated,
long been terminated
by the murderers called misfortune
You have only the penny drought
to console you with debt
and a the throne of a hurricane
to break your spine in to,
as I can see,
there is a power cut somewhere,
so large, that darkness has invaded
the light,
hope has been disconnected
little do you know
that you sleep on a bed of spines
but you feel how it spokes
and kills the sanctity of your back
Now your very being
staggering to the ground,
gun shot by frustration,
bleeds in worry,
longing for death,
who is a distant friend
soon to home for your soul.
By Kakraba Afful
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