Special are the chords
that strike the gaping abyss of my mind.
Shivers run playfully from my dreams,
through my long days
with lowly tunes.
It’s a bite of a sweet, poisoned apple.
The waxy eyes screaming
from one stem:
hope and death.
Written by:Ewura Ama Akyere Saah
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson