The cider of suicide
by my wounds I have been intoxicated
my soul moans like a wounded wolf,
this painful howl looms over the moon
as days and destiny are painted blue,
all things are ridiculously seen,
the sun bounces on the platform of the sky,
the moon frolicks with the stars,
as all faith is made mute
by a melancholy fate
with fallen eyes I gaze at the wind,
death seems to be calling my name
from the darkest sanctum of an abyss,
I have never known till she left me
what ticket should I take to hell?
Is it poison?
Is it a gun?
now a river lies peacefully there,
bathing itself with itself,
my bed shouldn't worry tonight
because I desire to end my destiny,
here and now,
I shall go to sleep on the river's mattress
and drown myself in it's foul waters.
By Kakraba Afful
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