THE ADDICT'S CONFESSION
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It started as an interest;
I deemed it worthier than the rest.
It then became a hobby;
A hobby turned a habit.
It seemed to be an addiction;
Frequency increased by addition.
What I did once or two times,
I now do a hundred times.
I felt good, I must say.
I was good, so they say.
I kept my grasp on the gullible
And lorded over the vulnerable.
They loved me and adored me,
Though a few of them abhorred me.
There may be tough days to endure
But until then, I enjoyed.
My enjoyments turned sour
When I first saw
An interest-like addiction
Leading me to destruction.
I was in self-made shackles;
Afflicting myself without struggles.
Menacing as if under a yoke
Even though I took no oath.
I cried and waited for help,
Yet closed all doors to help.
I fantasized in madness
Without self-pity or kindness
For myself; at least for me.
For both victim and villain was me.
I could have sought after cure
But I chose to endure.
I now lie beneath the sand
Without the ability to move a hand.
Termites feeding on my flesh
That was once succulent and fresh.
I still hear my ladies crying.
They'll soon be departing.
I wish they knew my true nature
In bold and dirty colours.
Written by *©Daniel Felix Ayibontey*
University of Education, Winneba
Ga Dangme Department
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