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Apr 2013
Love swells
And portrays
Her voice
Whenever it smells
And betrays
Her choice,

To established a place
For the serpent of love
Is to finish a pace
To repent for prove,

Otherwise, nothing
Can be said right
Without something
Being paid bright,

I think I have found
A love’s stone
But no, it is the sound
Of a dove’s tone,

I need to give
Up this race of grieve
So I can survive
This grace of love,

Indeed, love is not clear
Like a clean glass
But its dead is dear
Like green grass.

Prince Anin-Agyei
Written by
Prince Anin-Agyei  Ghana
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