Fri. Dec 13th, 2019

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THE ESCAPE

1 min read

The Escape

The dream to scale the ocean
lingers in the brain of every urchin
Abode on the most blanch tenet
On the earth

The hand of the creator dotted bliss
On the abode now smelling abyss

After their colons have been less employed
And their bones box with their skins for freedom
The ocean of sand seem like the only gullet to freedom

Like fruits they loose thier nectar
On the unroofed arena of sand and sun
Like fruits they know less how sweet they taste
So their juice evaporates into skeletons

Poet:Kofi Boateng

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