By Syka Wryts
PROMPT—No one noticed ...
The dancing howling wind swings through.
Through the naked crooked branches.
A tree standing on one's jack in the midnight rain.
The cold breeze blowing from the lost land_
Wraps warmth around her trunk,
Lulling her raging soul to peace.
"Wake up.. wake up!"
Reality! the only door your brain can't shut!
The fingers with eyes set only on you
You are supposed to play all the roles;
The perfection scale in every person's mind!
In a clock tic, you're clamped with affections
But before a rain drop, you are in the dark shell.
Fighting the voices in your head!
Your nails have traces of your wall paint in them...
You scream at your own echoes
....And gradually pants into your micro world
A tree sitting on a hollow hill
A hill built with ashes of hope
The Raven comes to remind her
That there is a life gain from death
The saw man comes, ready to cut her down
"Stop! you have built a lot!" Wishing it was another's voice and not mine
Now I stand behind a thin line
Watching my soul struggle with the demons
The heat I feel from pressing it hard on my temple
"Die! they don't even notice your pain!"
The raven stands beside me with her wings stretched
Singing the tales of the life waiting
pow...One pull on the trigger,
And my body lies cold in the pain blood
At last I shut the door!
Syka Wryts is a Ghanaian writer whose writings capture the deepest and overflowing emotions in the human brain. She explores the mirror image of nature to the human lives. When she is not writing, she is reading or watching movies. She writes from Kumasi, Ashanti Region, Ghana.