They had consoled him,

sheltered him, shielded him

from the frowns of turmoil,

and so he easily believed...

that life was easily easy,

that he could rest, forever

and drink the cider of laziness


Now he possesses a bearded bib,

a baby calmly disguised

in the form of maturity,

he presently lives

with a castrated conscience


Every since he learned to walk,

everything has tasted like milk,

so sweet so enticing,

anything he wanted,

there it was;

this, in fact, was the magic of care


and now, being himself

is foreign, because lullabies

continue to cuddle his mind,

and belittle it to

childhood again,

the rise and fall

of a mentality never allowed

to walk,

still cries...

and hopes that lullabies

of joy, shall again, cuddle him.

                         By Kakraba Afful

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