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I write her
She is poetry
I read her
She is poetry
Sometimes, I don't understand her
She is poetry
I see her
There is something about her
It's hidden but seen
There is something about her
shattered mirrors put together
It's hard to see through the crack
But I can see the crack itself
Who is she?
I don't know
Who will she become?
I don't know
All I know is that she is poetry and poetry is made by God
Araoluwa Jacob Apr 2020
Change
Change is
Change is constant
Change is the constant feeling that something is going to tweak and one day you will become the person that is weak
Or a person that is strong
One that stand up for what is right
or what is wrong
You can become the hottest freshmen in tech
or the coolest senior in arts
but the change that made you like that
is what made you who you are
Change is like hot summer, you love it but sometimes it can cause fire
You see, when fire burns you
it has a final result
and what is done takes forever to be undone
If life happened and I changed
life wont happen again for us to go back to our old ways
I know I changed
but like I said
Change
Change is
Change is constant
Change is a constant that something is going to tweak and one day you will never be the person you always wanted to be.
I wrote this for a friend
Araoluwa Jacob Dec 2019
One time, we were just talking
Then I asked him, “do you like poetry?”
He said “no, not really”
That’s when I knew
That’s when I knew that we were not right for each other
If I live poetry
And I breathe poetry
If I speak poetry
And I eat poetry
If I dance poetry
And I sing poetry
If I sleep with poetry
And I wake up with poetry
If poetry was my peace
And one of the gift God gave me,
Then who are you to be with me and not love poetry
For I make poetry
And poetry makes me
If you don’t like poetry
You don’t like me
I guess it was all just a facade that I tried to cover up with strong assumption that “maybe he really didn’t mean it”
Araoluwa Jacob Nov 2019
One room
Two people
Different perception
Similar conclusion
One with instincts of love
The other filled with devoid, imagination and few disbelief.
But...
At the end, they all have a similar conclusion: Love's Gonna Get You Killed...
Too much of everything isn't good
Araoluwa Jacob Nov 2019
This device in which they call, "phone," has now become a source of sadness every time I set my eyes on it and the first word that my eyes encounter is "Mummy"
red
green
cut
pick
Which one should I do?
I am stuck in the world between those two
The green might bring joy or pain, for her voice most of time times makes me feel disdain
Pick: my grades. Distraction, I face
That's all she ever says
and whenever any good words come out of her mouth, they don't last long because they come with warning reminding me that I can be foolish most of the times
Red I pick, punishment I feel. Pain, I'm inflicted
I guess she is my supreme being
Never will she admit that from her mouth, but when I cut the call, I remember that she made love and I was the result so if not for her, I would not be in this world.

But then ... I'm stuck in the world between those two.
No red
No green
No cut
No pick
I just let it ring and dance to the rhythm.
Araoluwa Jacob Aug 2019
I silenced my curiosity to please the deaf that my misunderstanding goes deeper than it looks. They say when you lose one sense, the other becomes stronger. Why can’t your eyes see through me, to my pain and realize that my curiosity was not in vain.
I tried to tell them but they didn’t listened so i spoke to death. She’s always listening
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