Condemned and judged by their own code
Writing the story like an old ode
Righteously plotting to decode
A hidden wrong that has not been done
In their heart a deed is born
A plan is hatched before the morning dawn
Swiftly acting like a sharpened thorn
Directed to inflict and leave one feeling forlorn
We are bold and break the cord
Of the strings that bring discord
Focusing on bringing love in one accord
To the disruptive souls that are so cold
MARYANN BOSAH 