I crave solitude.

I’m starving for it.

Like a heavy morning dew,

I’m saturated, but never full.

They’re here again,

Once more at my door.

They’re here to take,

Like a persistent rake.

I’m ripped.

I’m robbed.

And I need to gather what’s left.

I need to survive.

And yet,

I cannot satisfy,

Because I do not know what is missing.

I lay staring,

Humming with the seconds of time.

Tick tock,

Carry me along,

I’d rather stay with you,

Than entertain the energy vampires,

They disguise as humans,

But they’re eager to suck me dry

To be frozen in time,

Is to hear even the crickets cry,

And to hear the heart beat,

a couple thousand times.



Its slowly creeping and knocking at my door.

It wants to infect my sanctuary.

I forbid you.

I rebuke you.

I feel a wave of exhaustion,

Firstly from physical exercises from having to move here and there, for the sake of finding that special place.

And then from opinions I have had to digest day by day.

About how there is no hope.

“Oh Ghana dier no, no, no.”

“I for lef Ghana.”

I try to gather optimism.

But this time its slipping from my hand.

I need to exercise a firmer grip every night.

To keep the untarnished beliefs about Ghana and I intact.

So my love for my country does not grow cold.