Burning Alive

Flames for warmth and great company in hell.
My world is spinning, depression blooming.
What’s worse, I must compose a villanelle.

Seconds freeze leaving me hours to dwell.
Days drag, sun shines black, dreams of grim reaping.
Flames for warmth and great company in Hell. 

Cries from an Angel, as Devils chuckle.
Tears drowning smiles, pain is consuming.
What’s worse, I must compose a villanelle. 

Gods are dying so hate is living well.
Religion made me prey, no more praying. 
Flames for warmth…

Suicide is freedom, my soul I’ll sell,
Won’t be worth much, no use in bargaining.
What’s worse, I must compose a villanelle. 

Slit wrists, blood drips, secrets bottles can’t tell
Heart ceasing, light fading, stagnant breathing
Flames for warmth…
What’s worse? I must compose a villanelle.

-Stephen Kofi Opare Obeng
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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