When I was small, I thought the stars
Were holes in heaven, not so far.
I used to dream with eyes so wide,
Believing magic never died.

I laughed at rain and danced with wind,
Every scar could always mend.
The world was big, but I was bold—
A heart so young, a hand to hold.

But growing up can steal the spark,
Replace bright skies with shades of dark.
You learn the truth, you feel the ache,
You see the smiles that people fake.

Still deep inside, that child remains,
Running wild in summer rains.
Whispers soft behind the noise—
The one who still believes in joys.

So if you’re lost or feeling low,
Just find the you from years ago.
Hold their hand and don’t let go—
They'll guide you home. They always know.

One day, Africa will rise, not in whispers but in thunder,
Her heartbeat echoing through the valleys and over mountains yonder.
No longer cloaked in silence or chained to hungry hands,
She’ll dance to drums of freedom across her golden lands.

One day, our greedy kings will fall like broken towers,
Their palaces of lies washed away by truth’s pure showers.
No more stolen harvests, no more borrowed time—
The youth will speak in fire, in rhythm, and in rhyme.

We, the children of tomorrow, born of dust and flame,
Will write new stories where every child has a name.
No one shall starve in plenty, nor kneel to beg for peace—
We’ll plant seeds of justice where corruption used to feast.

Africa will wear her scars like medals on her chest,
A warrior who bled but never laid to rest.
She will be sung in every tongue from Cairo down to Cape,
Her voice a mighty chorus no tyrant can reshape.

So rise, my people, rise like the rivers after rain,
Lift the continent with vision, turn the struggle into gain.
For Africa is not sleeping—she is gathering her might,
And when she rises, oh when she rises—
She will blind the world with light.

I grieve for my soul,
For the number of times I let people walk over it,
I grieve for my heart,
For letting people in ,
I grieve for myself,
For allowing all the garbage —
The hateful disposal,
To get inside of me,
I grieve...
Yes ,I do ,
With great pain

Some days I laugh,
other days I disappear.
Both are parts of healing,
I’ve learned not to fear

I wore his vest,
trading stained threads
for something that smelled
just like him.

Bare legs, quiet room—
his eyes found mine,
and I swear,
time leaned in to listen.

"Just forehead kisses,"
I whispered once,
twice—
trying to stay soft
when my heart wasn’t.

But he looked at me
like I was still his,
like the ache between us
wasn’t ready to end.

His hands at my waist,
his breath on my cheek,
the silence hummed,
sweet and weak—

And then,
before goodbye could speak…
I kissed him—
once,
long,
slow,
like we forgot what leaving meant.

You woke,
not knowing your name—
only the weight of breath
and the pull of light.

Before mirrors,
before clocks,
before the word you—
what were you?
And who decided
that was enough?

People like me
don’t speak much—
we read silence
like it’s scripture,
watching the way shadows fall
on people’s faces
when truth gets too loud.

I learned early
that softness
gets mistaken
for weakness,
and honesty
for cruelty.

So I became
a quiet kind of storm—
rage in my ribs,
kindness in my palms,
resentment
sitting neatly behind my teeth.

Some days I’m tired
of pretending I don’t feel it all.
Of swallowing the world
just to keep peace
with people who
would never carry
a piece of me.

But I still stay quiet.
Because people like me
don’t speak much.
We bleed in poems.

The moon has seen everything,
but it never speaks.
It just lingers—
half-lit, half-lost,
dragging tides and secrets in its wake.

I asked it once,
"Did he ever mean it?"
"Will the ache dissolve like salt in water?"
"Why do I still dream in his voice?"
The moon only blinked,
a quiet refusal wrapped in silver.

Nights like this,
I fold myself into the dark,
press my ear against the silence,
listening for answers
that do not come.

Maybe love is just a sky full of questions.
Maybe healing is learning
to stop waiting for the moon to reply.

I miss those days when we had those funny girl talks,
Gossip about everything and anything,
Laughed and judged every creature that came our way,
Talk about how rich we wanted to be,
Our goals and dreams,
And where we wanted to be.

Then life took a turn,
A sudden turn none of us expected,
You changed how my name was saved in your phone ,
From girlfriend with heart emoji to my bare surname,
When I saw that my heart broke into pieces,
It's funny how you act as if everything is okay.

You smile at me, walk with me, laugh with me,
Pretend as if everything is OK,
But you clearly knew something is not right,
Or should I let bygones be bygones?

The memories we made are like precious gems,
Glistening in the sunlight of our minds,
Reminding me of all the joy we shared,
And all the love that we left behind.

So here's to those days and all the ones to come,
May we always find our way back to each other,
And keep the magic of our friendship alive forever.

I carry worlds within my chest,
silent storms I don’t confess.
A smile, a nod,a quiet plea,
hoping someone sees through me.

If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.