The night has grey hair 
Yet the drowsy numbness of your dull disdain keeps sleep aloof from my eyes 

Did you not promise to be a cloud for your people ? 

A cloud of peace 
A cloud of yourself 
Did you not say you'd never give the throne to insecurity? 
Then what happened to your gladiators ?

My heart is embroidered with the withered bones of innocent souls
My soul hangs on a spike wielded with the skulls of your people
Why did you live us in the care of the sun? 

Why did you succumb to the deceptive wiles of the sun ? 

In your absence
It grew wither by the day 
It deadened and lost its feisty shim  
Humanity grew stronger 
It broke the twigs of peace you left behind 

With man's sour taste for power 
He spat on the sun and turned it off.
Isolated streets are crowned with the lifeless souls of your people 
 Their blood loath abandoned valleys and alleys to satiety as they cloy the throats of gutters. 

Ignorant birds chirp on them 
As they merry and heap scornful odes on us

The oceans and seas constrict with the skulls of your people 
The ignorant sailor drinks off the blood that oozes from your people. 
The cries of machetes are the drumbeats of your people  
Your people tremble with their hearts in their hands 

Hidden under pale, withered and weary skeletons 
Peace as you lie cozy on the linen that covers Dian's lawns
Your people disappear into flames of bones

I call on your indefatigable mightiness and dewy nobility
Come and fight for your people . 
These are but faint lines of a scared servant
Yet it remixes the blood and toil of those that rot in abyss 
Peace, exhale your anger unto those that extinct your people.

©Evans Khojo Kwofie