GALLANT

Queentera Gyamerah

Through innumerable confiscations of lost dreams, I see the immaculate silhouette of dashed 

hopes 

 

It whispers gently, lips molded of trepidation and conviction 

 

It wrings me by the soul gently with mock 

empathy 

 

Curiosity its leering gaze and greed its personal poison 

 

Stringed upon a booklet of unrehearsed symphonies orchestrated upon the whims of 

sins, 

 

It seeks to punish those who gleam in understanding and reward those who lack intellectual stability 

 

Yet with undertones and hues of distrust lingering within a space meant for concrete ideals, I 

crumble 

 

A victim of my own 

gullibility 

 

A victim of my own 

instability 

 

A victim of creations crafted in minefields of chaos and 

instability 

 

I carved these mountains of mistrust led by the pied piper of my 

dreams 

 

I remain a gleaming mosaic of naivety dashed in streaks of 

maturity 

 

Learned is not the man who waits but rather the man that seeks

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