Blessed are you who drink my pain
And swallow my seasonal worry,
Where were you,
When the slave master
Took away my pride and destiny?

Stop crying over me,
For I have truly
Exchanged my honey for their bees,
And the walls of ignorance and oppression
Are drawn down over my ballad,

Oh yes, the cockroach will not be safe
In the gathering of fowls,
But you need to stop crying.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com