Life then became unfair to them as
Vision and mission vanishing into
Thin air, and ambition being buried in the
Darkness of eternity.
Hopeless tears drops from innocent
Cheeks. Hearts turn soft and broken
As eyes turn red.
“Mama, mama, Dada, dada M)wuoo, m)woo
Were the words I heard? Their cries tore
Through the starless night sky.
Sadness beams on my face as I stood right in my own Space to see who Win the death race.
A race with no beginning
Nor an ending yet people Wanted to run faster than
Usain Bolt yet advanced not.
Men and women lost their Beautiful souls and goals as if we were still in the Gold Coast where we lost our Gold
To the so called folks.
I felt the pain right through
My vein as I was ashamed in
A question still
Stings my heart; ‘Have we grown
When Maame Araba’s
House is still near a filling station
Awaiting to burn and make
Headlines in news.
My body Itches as the truth has been covered,
These stations belong to the so called Big men who sit in that big positions.
Asem a maka yi, menim s3 nkr)fo)
Boafu, But 3w) s3 munim s3 menko
M3kye 3firi s3 nokor3 na mokyere