The perils of keeping the wrong company…
Beaten against the bushels, pained by worldly thorns, trampled by passersby and deceivers posing as friends, her disheartened soul found rest among the despondent at their fest.
Their complaints cooked up bitter broth when swallowed, their chains were strengthened in that dreadful place.
She longed to flee but how could she when her feet were padlocked to the guardian of death and his cloak like steel weighed her down?
copyright 2017 DENyamekye