My heart beats a rhythm which remains to be heard
My body moves like a marionette in sync with my rhythm
Matters of the heart lack colour and sound and can only be
felt by the person in question
But when my heart beats my body dances a tune and my feelings
become visible and spread like running colours off an artist's canvas
Unlike a traditional puppet the strings are pulled from the inside not the outside
But make no mistake i'm still a slave of my heart nonetheless
My emotions charge with a fury like a raging tsunami engulfing whatsoever it desires
My beating heart heard above anything else like thunder in a storm
My heart plays a beat but you do not hear the sound
It is the movement of my feat and my body on the ground
That lets you know how i feel so you can interpret the sound
--Eyram Kofi
