As I drink the

bitter bile of melancholy,

the sky moans

and the dark side

visits my heart

with the shriek

of a death scythe


Then shall I bury myself

with rigorous will

and be the clay's brethren,

and suffocate happiness

till the breathe of light

becomes extinct,

the clock ticks slowly,

and the graveyard

defies life


Now I fall...


in this endless

futile brawl with the darkness,

I let it clothe me,

the ears of mercy

are deaf

but still the silent

violin of bliss

plays with a transparence,

vomited by the fog

which convicts my

very sanctity,

and rapes my existence.

By Kakraba Afful

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