Not her class

Sometimes I come in last Other days I walk her past Campus demands from us the same task But life itself is not for the fast Yet she communicates that I’m not her class. Severally-outnumbered times She has rolled out her eyes She doesn’t even miss my thighs From the top of my head to the sole of my feet Just like the icy hands of death she doesn’t forget my teeth And she communicates that I’m not her class. She respects money but not the person So without the “Kudi” she won’t be there for another reason A poor person has no colleague or fraternity Thank goodness I can choose my counterparts It’s rather my siblings I can’t do anything about And she is definitely not the one I can’t do anything without It’s funny sometimes but it’s my flaws she tames So many humans but humanity fades Thus she communicates that I’m not her class. The eyes are useless when the mind is blind She sees my flaws on the outside and hates the beauty inside The one thing that has been originally designed At a point in time i came to realize Some people have to stay in my life But not in my heart She is not my wife I’ll get that into head and not my hat Oh I get it; she says that I’m not her class. When I offer help she says “An intelligent man freely gives unsolicited counsel A wise man keeps his council until all options are considered” Yet she forgets that before God we are all equally wise and foolish When I photograph my thoughts she questions “I wish I can do more than write-too much beautiful talk” Well instead of wishing you could do more Manufacture toothpick for Ghana! She still insists that I’m not her class. Every time she looks at me she never forgets to tell what she sees that I’m less of a person compared to everyone else But little miss perfect doesn’t give me the chance to make up for what I fall short off Oh I get it; she says that I’m not her class. I’m nowhere close to a perfect girl I’m broken, I have cracks and fault lines Though it appear sharp, hostile and fragile, when perceived from the inside, my fragment forms a beautiful mess. She says that I’m not her class I’m okay I’m supposed to be real not perfect So I might never be her class. Off course I get it, I’m definitely not her class. …Inspired by E.S… Aba Radical The Photographer of Thoughts Fb: Mercy Aba Blankson Twitter: @aba radical IG: Aba Radical +233249953609 Comment, like and share #AbaIssaRadicalWriter