Stephen Obeng Poet I do not know?

Chasing After the Dust

Selections made
Not through darwins eyes
But of low tide,
Shallow.

Authoritarian tendencies
Tyranny
And had prototype
Beauty

Charisma
Compelled her
Transformations of
Lies into
Truths


...I held on to each syllable
That rolled off her lips
Like the song from a
Diety...

Taught to walk over all.
Footprints of a
Graceful giant

Inherited the Midas touch but
Wore white leather gloves.

Ruined everything she loved
Chasing after the lust

Pupils reflected flames
Heart deflected emotions
Cognition addicted to fame
As her Soul danced with no motion

The product of environment
Trying to shine in the
Shadows of her parents as
Conceptions of self faded

A paralyzed rose in the dessert.

...If only she
Had tears from
Hindrance and
Triumph to
Nurture
The seeds of
Ambition...

Heartbreak,
I couldn't escape and
Maybe we met by fate
But all who she has known
Are elated she never made it.

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