THE STORY IN MY HEAD (The Man Sitting In Your Front)

He’s not a human being – No, he is less of that
He might’ve been the one through whose ***** I permeated into my mother’s ******
But would you believe me if I told you that he deflowered his product?
And tags it a righteous conduct

To take a bite of the material to know it’s worth
And to be the first person to know what’s what and what’s not
That man sitting in front of you was the one who’s made me a shame
Since Mum caught him on me the second time, life’s never remained the same

I can’t even call my natal vehicle “Mom”
She’d say “I am not the mother of a *****”
I cannot give birth to a lady
Who’s only dream is to give birth as a baby

But what am I to do when that man sitting in front of you caused all these?
I can’t even tell you the pain I feel when someone calls me by his last name
I have to hold it in each time, in school I have to be called upon by the teacher with that name while being sane
But to whom am I to explain all these?

That the man you call my Father,
has committed ******
towards myself and my mother,
he’s sexed his first daughter
in an attempt to be the first buyer.

©Emmiasky Ojex
The #TheStoryInMyHead is a compilation of tales that narrate inhumanity and its adverse effects on its victims, something that's been on around the world for too long and has done too much evil to be left alone.

This is 2 out of 24
Emmiasky Ojex Nov 22
I look down and I don't recognize myself
I tried to push my legs to go faster
but I guess theirs was faster than mine

Pushed to the wall of a filthy building
All I heard was ripples
I knew I've been caught

I could not register what was happening again
Grunts,painful moans of pleasure
Their hormones was saying yes,mine said no

After getting satisfied,they push and go
But I'm left to pick the pieces,but they left with one thing
and that was my pride

(c)S.O.Y
The tale of that which I am afraid to tell anyone
Emmiasky Ojex Nov 19
REMEMBER US THIS WAY

I look back on the memories we’ve had sometimes ago
When life was free for every one of us, both young and old
When hiding in dilapidated buildings wasn’t a survival technique
And death was from nature, not a man-made epidemic

When our young ones were free to go to school, grow up and become men who’ll rule
And the dead sons of our land weren’t having their cadavers along the road-path
When our daughters were whole to be married
And not hampered like now as they have to be carried

I’ll look back on the time happiness was never far from our sides
And joy wasn’t gotten from seeing our enemies die
I’ll look back on the building up front
With so many moments had therein, good and bad, all that we hold fond

I’ll remember that fahir was in us too
But now, as soon as the day brings itself new
I’ll see that the brother I’ve had my whole life is gone
To his end of time at the mercy of a ******’s shot

I’ll go to the death-counter, and see another sun’s been decimated
And another light has just been put off
All for what?
The land,
Power,
Money,
Or religion?

Another 12-Year’ld has just been laid to rest
With his mother wailings as the day before yesterday, he laid on her chest,
Promised her “I will grow up, become a feared militant and put the wars to an end”
But, he has just been pushed off of earth

We had holidays
Now only morning days
Yet as the dust fills our faces
We’ll hold on to our faith

For someday, we shall all together, say
“It was all yesterday”
So for this, I’ll always remember us this way!

From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
Please heal the world in whatever little way you can
Emmiasky Ojex Nov 13
Why should I hold it in?
Is my heart an inn?
Why should I not say when I have been hurt?
Will you only learn the evil your shunning made me do when I become a member of the dreaded cults?

Why can I not cry too?
Why does my pains have to be kept mute?
Will you only see the pain in my perforated heart after I go home
Beyond this phase, transcendence into the metaphysical zone?

I am human,
Born of skin and bone
Not made of rocks and stones
I have a right to be sad.

So why will you tell me to hide my face,
Beneath the dwellings of the bed sheet
And under the railing of my own skin
Why, I still wonder why?

If you can tell me your pain
Maybe I can ease you by telling you the shame coming out to tell the world what boys suffer brings to my name.

From your friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
Your words will either mar or heal someone.

We are boys, not stones.
Look at our daughters
They now show no ill in laying with men old as their fathers
Look at our sons
Nothing is holding them back from scamming the green people with their bad brain and laptops

Look at our mothers, fathers, the young men and alike; women,
They now have no time for their own children,
Everyone is too busy searching for just one thing,
And that is known as MONEY!

Why will a lady lay with a dog?
Or why’ll she prefer to be known in the environ as a hog?
Is it not just for one thing?
They choose to sell their body?

Why will a schooler choose to become a drop-out with no good passion?
But he’s trying to boycott hardships and hardwork
He’ll just join the bad gang
And will receive money off stealing from the innocent man

He’ll swerve off money from the fleeceable parents
And to all their good, he’ll put an end
He’s not *******
He just wants the wealth; in anyway it comes and at whatsoever cost, he cares less!

Blame it on the money,
What is ours is now owning us,
And we still show no remorse,
As even today, some of your sons and daughters are still singing this MONEY SONG!

©Emmiasky Ojex
This poem talks on how money has thwarted humanity in the world
Do you see us when we cry?
When we try to hide our faces in the sand?
have you ever thought it through,
That these people might be hurt too

Do we seem like we do not have pain receptors in us?
Nay, we are born out of bone and blood
We also feel the same pain you do
Only that the would sees us as weak and your strong when we show it

Do we seem like goats
We do not need to be told
“You are a man, be one”
Will you tell these words to my boy when I am gone?

Of course, I am a boy!
Is that a curse?
Can I not feel hurt as well?
Or will you only notice my tears when I drown in the well

Please look into my eyes and tell me
It’s okay to be a hurt boy.

From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
A poem on the negligence of the boy-child and total focus on the girl and the danger this may cause.
Emmiasky Ojex Oct 15
Sweet architect!
I hope you are listening to the clamors in my head
I hope you see the pain I feel in my chest
I hope you see that I really am trying my best

Sweet architect!
I hope you’re seeing the tears my eyes harbor
I hope you realize that my heart sobs
I hope you see me in my origin as someone with naught

Sweet architect!
I hope you see my soul is a mess
I hope you see me try again and fall back on earth
I hope you see my laid back at night trying to reach the heavens for help

Sweet architect!
I hope you see me wishing I could change
Become a better person in this age
I hope you see that I have been damaged

Sweet architect!
I hope you see the need I need
I hope you see as I fall on my knees
That I need a whole new knead

Sweet architect!
I hope you know that I know that you’re the only one who can
Help me with all of earth’s troubling time
And let me live the life I deserve

Sweet architect!
This is not my cry to you but a plea
Like a poor child to a rich King
I reach out to you for a meal!

Sweet architect!
We both know these chains are not mine
But I got them while I was trying to make it in life
Please help me break loose and survive

Sweet architect!
I know that you are all where
At days when you are needed
You’re always near

Sweet architect!
I now plead with you to come; save me and my mates
From this trouble we have to eat on our dining plates
And move us from where we are to our original place!

From a friend that cares,
©Emmiasky Ojex
Have you ever had those weird questions in your head and feel as though no one can help you solve 'em?

If you have. you will understand this!
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