Fangs of mystery
he wore the jacket of the shadows,
creeping like shyness
and with the eyes of a shadow,
the darkness apparently
had betrayed the police,
because they didn't know
what slithered in the
unsuspecting roads,
lonely, staring at the stars
But a bank, lay there
resting on the friendly
mattress of concrete
and by the numeric security
of cunning combinations,
expected no grim visit
But
that being,
the very architecture of tact,
knew exactly what to do...
he conspired with the night,
so did his thoughts
The sirens were still asleep,
never did they know
that night was the horse,
that was soon to invade
this Troy of security
and without a gunshot,
the safe was opened
and all the cops were dead.
By Kakraba Afful
Like it on Facebook, Tweet it or share this article on other bookmarking websites.