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Born here, I am already a sinner

Born here, I am already a sinner

Artwork by Ansah Poku

Born here, I am already a sinner
/a sound of a different boy in a town called Gaa-na/

I am twenty and some scorching heat
old. i live in a country that makes me
a negative millionaire. i owe about 77
generous countries my intelligence & labor.

look at how they’re sweeping cocoa from
my shell into gold-dusted portmanteaux.
what can i say? my government borrowed from them all.
call me the prodigal son, but i never asked for my
share of this money to squander. my bad.

the kinsmen of the government cannot say the same,
this poem dares them. but guess what,
i; a shriveled brain of a boy know i’m
not to be taken seriously for what i write. i will lose the court
case as it has happened every time after
those rigged elections. look at how i’m talking
back at my elders—Mr. President—this boy
deserves pardon for crying out at this country.

though the cost of living and exchange rates are rising
it shouldn’t be his voice nor his sentiments.
this poem is not calling you out to do the right thing
no, some agencies outside this country have already
applauded your rightful ruling. this poem is warning
this boy to not be insolent. he must learn to not speak up in
this failing state of a growing democratic country. it is
a sin for him to do that. born into a sick system, how dare he
heal. how dare he think of heaven when he was homed a hell
at birth.



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