Sitting on the fence
Without any pence
They sought them out
Without thinking to flout
They spewed forth
That which was only froth
For there was no substance
To arouse sustenance.

It is a cycle
In a constant motion
Not a motorcycle
Nor a bicycle
But a humancycle
That without any premonition
Breaks off and starts
In jerks and spurts

One word: Sensationalism

©7292017kntemmensah #SILENTNOISES


Published by: #SILENTNOISES

I am a social advocate with a biased focus on empowering Fathers to be role models for not only their children but all children. I also love to write reflecting articles and poems on social issues. I am married with a wonderful and loving wife with whom I have three lovely children.

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