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Her melanin glows like the orange sun Her dark- chocolate complexion- so fine As she walks by, who can be compared-none Her red, rosy lips stand out like red wine
There is a sickness in my stomach that was not there yesterday, It is a turning, churning feeling of what was taken from me, And it doesn’t go away. Every time I think of you it burns.
If we knew then what we know nowThat there were worms in their teaThat woes and headaches awaited usAt the end of the road beyond the seasWe would have pleated our dreams at home.
Take me back to the days of a Ghanaian sunset. When hope dwelled above the waters of despair And I gazed into the eyes of a sinking soul. Where trust and fear were honest and pure --