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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.


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