From birth to a toddler
As a toddler to teenager
From teenage to adolescent
And as I grew up
I knew I'm weird
I knew am unique
I knew am an enigma
I knew am different
I also knew am an Odd fellow
Yeah I see things
not seen with optical eyes
Hear things beyond this realm
I am prophetic for
I say the unspeakable,
things not normal for the average
They say so many things
about me as am growing up:
You are so annoyingly quite
You are so sensitive
You are always by yourself.
You are a loner
Your eating habits are so different,
You eat herbs.
You are a teetotaler,
and a recluse,
an introvert
With the ability to heal the sick.
An object of mingled awe and revulsion,
Simultaneously revered and abhorred,
Mysterious and elusive,
highly talented and unassuming,
an erratic genius but modest
with enormous strength but reserved.
I am an alien,
living amongst strangers.
There's an Alien within.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

iii (dying love)

he loves me,
he loves me not.
loves me again,
but it gets lost.

what sweet love lingers
in the petals that i carry,
falling and wilting
slowly but surely

i wish i could convince him
to love me more —
alas, it is now up to chance
up to the petals that he now plucks

one after another
my heart stings more and more
he loves me, it mends;
he loves me not, it breaks.

all till the last petal remains
so delicately poised on its remaining bridge to love,
hanging on a chance
on a thought
on a moment of hope —

oh so sad,
how nothing cannot save this dying love.

The flower isn't aware
that it has been kissed by the dew
after such a long while
you still don't know I love you

did you not feel my kiss
when in your dreams you met me?
don't you deny what's in your heart
don't you ever say love is silly!

I will not run from you, Fear.
I will stand still and stay right here.
Your yawning chasm of the unknown
is no more than a dark corner of my mind when I’m alone.
I choose to close my eyes and recall
what I’ve faced before, and how I did not fall.
And that I’m not alone, and never will be—
for lonely souls like me are plentiful,
and friendly.

You told me not to tell anyone
what happened.
Said it would hurt him too much.
What about me?

Did my feelings matter less?
Why must I be a prisoner,
silent to his crime.

Yes it was crime,
and I, not wanting to feel
victimized
kept silent,
but asked for your advice.
You told me what I wanted to hear,
which was to say nothing.

I wonder how you feel
about your words now.
I wonder if they haunt you
in your sleep.
I wonder wonder
about you and
and all your feelings
instead of wondering
about me.

How am I doing?

I wish you would ask.