Once a line drops
In the mind it crops
As we struggle with their words
With pronunciation getting worse
The supremacy of that language
Like Nkrumah in his age
It spreads further
Their language has feathers
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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