She was an introvert once


But now


She talks a lot,
to distract people from looking at her face.

His arms feel like home,
When home doesn't feel like home.
His firm grip secures this body, this house that  many weird things reside in.
His lips are too good to be of human flesh.
They talk and kiss sense to me.
The little things matter to him
And for the first time ever in my life,
I need not to worry.
Need not to cry.
Need not to hurry.
Need not to shy.
A rate tall skinny totoro,
One that I get to call mine

Women in my family draw blood from their veins when the world is thirsty.
They cry a river and wash the people's clothes.
Their skin is the leather they sit on.
But the world gives nothing in return.
They breathe in carbon dioxide and give them oxygen because these women, all they know is to serve.
Their fingers have glittery precious chains.
This prison they live in their parents got wealth for.
But the world gives nothing in return.

For generations and generations, they are not tired.
And the world never, not even once, give something in return.

It is my fault i fell for your devious charms.
i loved the mystery and went digging in you, mine,
lucky me i found diamonds and kimberlites .
As the temperature rose up my alarm bells went off,
but the crowds calmed them down asking me how i landed such a lad.
Ego puts fear, paranoia and all gut instincts to sleep.
Your hand landed on my face one day,
sorry you had to pop my pimples unwillingly,
and i apologize for staining your hands with my blood.
I was researching on the number of women killed by their partners in South Africa.
Sorry i did not clear my history and you had to see this.
I apologize for giving birth to these beings, beautiful creatures we brought to life ,you and i, that now hate your guts just because they do not understand that it is my fault.
i lost another one yesterday when you gently slammed me against the wall because you didn't want to believe that he was yours as well.


so now  i write you this letter, read it to the crowds and tell them what a bad wife i had been.
tell them that i was weak, tell them i couldn't endure the hardships of this marriage and had an appointment with my maker.
Tell them i was useless.
cremate me and put my ashes in the trash bag.

it is all my fault and i apologize from the bottom of my heart.

They say it is the most painful way to die,
but i think it's the most excruciating way to live.
These files, these emotions, these people, temptations and Lord knows what else.
They drown you alive.

Just a little hug would suffice.
Let my heart know it doesn't beat alone.

Momma.
I'm sorry I let the bad boy of the year fondol me first.
I knew he never liked me but it felt good to have his goldfish attention for those 3 seconds.
Sorry I never came home last night, or a thousand others before this one.
Sorry I've become an alcoholic and my grades are drunk too.
You grounded me, and said I shouldn't go nowhere.
You didn't ask why I was acting out,
Coz only then would you have known why  my corpse laysnin this tub with diluted blood from the roads I tried to construct on my wrists and thighs,
Hoping to an escape.
To bad,
Now you will never know.

I watch it die
Strangle itself before jumping off Mount Everest.
I don't weep but smile bitterly
Cry silently
Try effortlessly
to save it,
Revive it,
extinguish the fire
But The ashes simply fall into my skeleton hand.
Rest in peace my poetic beast.
May your soul rest in the immortal deep.

She wakes up at 1am everyday
sits for at least an hour
wondering if her life is going somewhere
hoping it does
coping in bars
that she has built for herself over the years,
with very little care tie,
very much traded time
she feels like a good
which is bad
for her anorexic self esteem and obese body.
This cycle repeats itself,
again,
and again,
and again.



CAUTION: Do not step into the stagnant waters that are her life,
you might catch schistosomiasis

"A lil birdy told me age is just a number                                                           ­                                              
     But how come I catch myself growing sadder?                                                          ­                                            
   They told me to grow up fast                                                             ­                                                 
Because all my childhood fantasies would not last                    
  But fantasies are the only thing that loved me                                                               ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                    
 In this present  life I have  nobody.                                                    ­                                         
                                                                ­                                                 
           I’m young, I’m woman now                                                              ­                                               Somebody get ready to pay a cow                                                              ­                                                  Because my ******* are swollen and silk                                                             ­                                                     But can never produce milk                                                             ­                                                    Why?

A violent father doesn’t leave much room for love                             An icy mother turns you into an eagle from a dove                                                             ­                                                  So how could I appreciate the gift of my legal day of birth,                                                           ­                                         
When thoughts of this inhabitancy bring all joy to a firth?                                                           ­                                                                I’m young                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                
I’m woman now.                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                              
But save me, because I don’t wanna grow up.”

She fell asleep with the journal in her hand and hoped to wake up in another family, but then again, childhood fantasies would never last now that she was adult.

They tell me to believe in it,
Says it feels like magic
But all I’ve seen is tragic
Because momma always blames her addiction
On what was supposed  to be the love of her life
My father.
A man who took her youth, along with dignity, confidence
And a heart she never had much use for after he took off.
Because of love she never notice me,
Because of love our family is a tragedy.
Maya Angelou went in and out of time
While old folks laughed at the stupidity,
The old adage or illusion we dragged our behinds into.
Something that is there but never existed.
Saint Valentine, sorry to disappoint
But your blood,
Your blood was spilled in vain.
Love is red like the February  14th,
And also like gunshot  wounds of soldiers
And cardiac ones of their wives back home.
So what is love?
Ladies and gentlemen love is nothing
But pain with no gain
A sunflower fruitlessly blossoming in the rain.

It stings.
Burns my heavy eyes with a warmth far too cold.
Ungranted escape, heart bent out of shape.
You can’t put a number or size on emotions,
But when they bleed at the speed of light,
They do, in a perfect flow