A world as a Bee sting

In a world where roses do not flourish in art of love

where birds do not seek after nectar or living grains

nor sing melodious songs to arouse nature's blessedness

where gold is sourced with bullets in an ambush of programmed fools

where hope is a defaced emblem on the heart of the young

memories, no longer cherished
"sex" a hymnal currency
and reflections of mirrors are even refracted with stained scars

due to hovering shadows of dead deeds
In a world where days are now nights
and time an emnity to patience
where fools are still allies of fools
where morals are contaminated and unflagged on a playing field of eye witnesses

a world, the wise is seen as cartoonist in protracted lenses

In a world where rainbows are outnumbered by seasons

and years pained in graphical bars
a world where it rains when the sun is awake
and shines light, in an angry moody cloud
In a world where we race as competitors
and rather mourn achievements and celebrate the dead

where tongues are twisted yokes of barreness
due to sold consciousness from the bellies of thievery

In a world as this,
of losers flaunts and baked teasing pleasures

I will walk on the threads of the seamstress weave

I will sleep on the strings of the
acoustic playlist
I will kiss the arms of the seasoned gong gong beater

and carry his heart beat as my musical yonder.

I will eat less, so I don't get swayed as a gluttons rest

For we live in a world
with no happy endings.
So deny yourself of love
Disown your thoughts of trust
And be discerning enough,
for the world is a rugged rat race of evil imaginary thinkers.

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
AD 08:04:2025
20:49 PM.

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