My face is crinkled with sorrow
My bones quake without marrow
My ink spills but uninviting like a drab
I am dazzled by the moroseness of my world

I live a solitary life skirted by anguish
I possess a heart triturated by the blues
Ears listen not to the banal song of my flute
I am wrecked by the wicked hand of solitude

Thousands of heads turn in expectancy
Chins rested on arms with fingers crossed
I feel too dark to drown wary eyes in tears
Yet, zero in multitudes to accept concocted stanzas

In a blink, my world is darkened and raging
The rose has its value in a gradual wane
Hearts are confined in faded love
Everything in vain; the trust inclusive

Copyright © Aboagye Joseph 2019

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