George Boamah Poems

Listen for a minute, we need to clear the air
My opinions coming at you faster than a hare
It comes down to small details, splitting hairs
All of you gather round, please listen here
...

I feel slow to wake, my head it aches
Here I lie dazed, in this hell I have made
Hear my tummy rumble, fingers fumble
My lips mumble, seems like I'm in a jungle
...

Vehemently, you try to prove that you're not
Instead of guarding against your thoughts
Slowly veering away from what you've been taught
Deciding not to do what you very well know you ought
...