- 20th October 2016
- Posted by: Clara Keren Owusu
- Category: Common Sense, Poetry
The shows of this world surrounds me as I star in their acting.
I have played roles I will never play on a normal day.
But how does a normal day feel like?
‘The world is a stage’ they say, and, here I am before these multitudes.
Their comments would tell how long I last up here and their silence would mean I may have to push more.
My broken mirror is a constant reminder of my broken soul.
Who am I now? I do not know!
All I know is that time is passing and am not wasting it trying to get a new self to play me.
It’s harder to be original and so so easy to imitate.
I have kissed the Devil on the lips and had affairs with his daughters;
I have planted on his acres and pressed the wine from his vineyard.
He didn’t demand a thing- actually, he is hardly there.
It seems free until reality hit.
It seems easy till life slaps you in the face!
My fans and cheerleaders have left me here,
where are the people who lead me on?
How did I get here?
Who was I living for?
Don’t u recognize me anymore?
I think I need a drink to forget this turmoil,
it shall all end once I wake from this alcoholic slumber.
It’s 4 am and am counting the seconds of my wall clock.
I have watched my ceiling for so long it seems it has started to show me some attitude.
My pillows are weary from the long lonely tears and squeezing, I guess they’ve had a fair deal of what I have become.
The clouds have covered the moonlight and the darkness around admits the darkness in my life is illuminating.
My fears have engulfed me.
My tears have choked me.
Is the world really looking at my next move?
No “Gosh” what just happened?
The seconds have moved to hours and the hours have moved to days.
My phone isn’t buzzing with call as expected.
Only general messages reach me from WhatsApp.
One guy is always talking about some God and all; these church peeps don’t know what we are going through.
Finally a phone call arrives, the worse has finally hit me.
What do I do? Who do I turn to? Who would help?
Is this really me?
I take another drink, I lace it up with something deadly.
“Death, Oh death, comfort me in thine arms”.
Your embrace I hear is cold but only for a while it shall be done.
My coins are already in my pocket for the journey.
I know I shall be struck with the rod by my ancestors,
But, better there than here where I owe no one a dim
Oh this world with its boast and pops.
Blinded by lust and desires that never die.
Held by the wicked clutches of pleasure.
Quietly and slowly it destroys.
It was never for free;
The Devil’s lunch is always for a price.
And the loving father watched and tried to pull you back on course,
but, you were too gone to turn back to yourself.
Fare thee well, friend.
I really hope you are on your journey to rest.
Those who rest are they that found themselves in Christ.
But I don’t plan to meet u again if you don’t rest in Abraham’s bosom.
There has always been life beyond what our physical eyes could see.
All we say and all we crave for will be judged.
Choose Christ and choose eternal life.