#reflection
Days spent gazing at you,
touching life, breathing truth.
Nights awake hoping there was more,
crying aches and distant dreams.
Hours of our escaping moments,
slipping between the creeks.
Seconds turn to longing memories,
leaving without a name.
Every choice, into lost possibilities,
filled wells of regrets and doubt.
Seized notions, opening hidden passages—
a long march of achievements and goals.
The seeds you sowed, roots you grew,
carried by the gust of time.
All those fractions of breaths, gone.
There’s no turning back.
2h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 5:10 PM UTC
I sit and marvel at my face,
a masterpiece of time and grace.
These eyes, twin pools of honeyed light,
hold secrets deep, yet burning bright.
My nose, a slope both soft and strong,
fits perfectly where it belongs.
These lips ah, yes a cherry bloom,
speak kindness while they light a room.
My curves, my lines, my gentle art
each part plays its essential part.
These legs, two pillars firm and free,
carry the woman I chose to be.
I love myself, my stretch marks, scars,
I’m my own sun, my own north star.
No passing judgment bends my frame
I wear my name like a war cry, fame.
The mirror whispers, “You’re a queen.”
I wink and say, “I’ve always been.”
And though the world spins fast and wild,
I kiss my shadow
reconciled.
15h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 4:53 AM UTC
There is a flower I keep in my yard.
It’s been there for as long as I can remember.
Yes, it’s still the same flower after all this time,
Despite all that has happened around it.
Rains have drowned her roots.
Water flooded her body,
She never knew when she would be able to breathe again.
Winds had torn her petals away from her.
Her plain body, bare for everyone to see,
Cold and unappealing as she shook violently in the storm.
Animals have eaten her blossoming buds.
Chewing and gnawing on her raw potential,
Only to spit it back at her when she sat heavy in their stomachs.
It might’ve taken days,
Sometimes weeks.
Months.
Years, even.
But she grew back,
Just the same as she was before.
I thought it odd.
Does she not realize how to survive?
Why couldn’t she move to a different spot?
Somewhere secluded, hidden, protected from the elements.
Why wouldn’t she change her colors, her patterns, her leaves?
All she did was attract,
It didn't matter what it was.
Predators, prey, pests, problems,
Everything wanted something from her,
And she kept on giving.
I don’t understand it.
How could something endure so much,
Yet come back the same every time?
I asked my reflection in the window,
The one that overlooks the yard where I keep my flower.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 1:54 AM UTC
Why can’t I cry?
Is it because it’s not dark enough in my room,
Or has my heart quietly given up on me too soon?
I stare at the ceiling — it stares back the same,
No lightning, no thunder, just silence and shame.
I press my eyes hard, but the tears won’t fall,
Like I’m standing on the edge, but there's no one to call.
Maybe I’ve felt too much for far too long,
Now even sadness won’t sing me her song.
Maybe the girl who used to feel everything
Has folded her wings… and stopped listening.
Why can’t I cry?
Did I run out of reasons, or out of the sky?
It’s strange to miss the pain I used to hate,
But now I sit, numb, just waiting for fate.
I’m stitched together by silence and empty dreams.
18h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 1:39 AM UTC
Three lively birds I spot in the tree,
bouncing from branch to branch,
chirping gleefully.
Sat on my own perch in my yard,
curious to their little lives,
I observe them through damp lashes.
How is their life different from mine?
Do they feel as worn as I, or
are they hopeful, happy, content?
Without an answer or theory,
I return, depleted, back to bed.
When all hope seemed lost
and the birds flew away,
two strangers appear at my door to knock.
Dressed in their Sunday best,
they stood in wait, calm and polite,
and asked me the same question
I'd been wondering about life.
"Do you think life can be enjoyed forever?"
The question they posed.
I say no, thinking of three birds of a feather.
They preach the words of a god I do not know,
the irony unmissable. Still, politely, I engage,
but ultimately turn to let them go.
Wind chimes on the porch
don't sing anymore,
not because they can't,
but there is no breeze for them to sing for.
Standing isolated in my home,
with tears in my eyes,
it's so strange that three birds and two strangers
intersected at the crossroads of mine.
Maybe I'm not so alone in this life.
For a moment the wind blows,
and the chimes sing their song
to three birds and two strangers,
before the wind moves on.
19h ago
Jun 3, 2026 at 12:49 AM UTC
How some silences tear u apart,
a shatter with no sound, a breakdown with no noise
just tears filled with pain flooding behind your eyes
no place for them to hold back neither a room to flow
chest getting tighter no space for air to go
the more I loved someone the more I push them away,
My love's like that of a monster whose lost his destined way
It screams in anguish and howls with sorrowful strains
destroying what comes near to push away the fear of disdain.
If I could feel the burns flaring inside of me
I wouldn't be brave enough to hide it completely
But turns out that raging fire seems cold within
maybe the harsh warmth has been a habitat to my skin
Thinning its layers, flaking off like dust
Blood gushing up, might spill at a touch
Yet my heart says, "What worse could it be?",
just cover it up and let the pain trickle down silently
So the clock ticks and sun goes down,
but hands then get stained in brown
eyes once dewy with drip of tear, now blurred and blue stuck in fear
So my sullen heart heavily says,
"Was loving supposed to be this way?"
Partly yes and partly no..
As my soul doesn't give up, it beholds a view
of a hope that someday will come through
where warmth is comfort and tears can be flown,
fears acknowledged so howls can be slowed.
A pile of kind words and soft acts of care,
that'll seize my anger which always flares
a pair of arms to wrap around my monstrous skin,
a hand that wipes off stains with its favorite napkin.
words embracing my heart like an aid,
calming its gushing flow that never fades.
a presence that'd know my unrecoverable past,
yet wants to share a future that makes love last.
Oh, can someone ever seek such ways to love out of the odds?
Because only then my heart would finally believe in the clause-
"Love is ironic.."
and pain itself would hush;
"Yeah, I am the most beautiful part of love.!"
20h ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 11:39 PM UTC
They painted the pool a patriotic blue,
because apparently the sky wasn't doing its job.
For centuries, water had reflected America without a permit, without a consultant, without a branding strategy.
But that was the old way.
Now every puddle must declare its loyalty.
The ducks were confused.
One asked, "Are we still swimming, or have we become part of the logo?"
A tourist stared into the water and whispered, "I can no longer tell where the reflection ends and the advertisement begins."
Meanwhile, the fish filed a formal complaint.
"We were promised freedom," they said, "not a corporate colour palette."
But nobody listened.
The painters marched on, armed with buckets and slogans, determined to improve reality one coat at a time.
Soon the grass looked suspiciously unbranded.
The clouds lacked consistency.
The moon failed to meet visual identity guidelines.
Committees were formed.
Reports were written.
Budgets multiplied.
And somewhere, an old man sat quietly beside the pool, remembering when water was trusted to be water.
The politicians called it progress.
The contractors called it a variation order.
The media called it history.
The taxpayers called it expensive.
And the pool?
The pool said nothing.
It simply reflected the absurdity above it, as it always had,
blue or otherwise.
1d ago
Jun 2, 2026 at 2:11 AM UTC
Age one: you have spent one year on this earth
But your death too was marked on the day of your birth
Age two: you have learned a few gibberish words
But only from there will you learn to stop blabbering like gossiping birds
Age three : your parents sent you early to school
But back then you were genuinely so cool
Age four: you made a party full of friends
But you didn't know that that friendship usually ends
Age five: you were chatty and happy
And so endlessly sappy,
You talked enough to fill files
And gave strangers cute smiles
Age six: you put a pencil on paper
And drew random things you stuck on wallpaper
Age seven: you started drawing people
But never the ones so feeble
Just the happy kind
The ones in a fairytale you'd find
Age eight: you grew lonely,
And thought "buying" a sister would make things friendly
Age nine: you perfected the" perfect daughter"
But it was just a way for people to say
" we finally got her"
Age ten: you said to yourself
I am the best version of myself
You saw the best in everything
And ignored the possible fighting
Age eleven: you used up your final peace. And piece
The volume inconspicuously turned down. And next year you'll begin to drown
Age twelve: look at your smile as you blow out your candle
So unprepared for what your mind will soon make you handle
Age thirteen: you dropped the pencil and turned to words to hide
And you wore a mask in which you will always abide
Age fourteen: you lost your friends and
You saw the worst in everything and you had cry-athons every week maybe every night and you hoped and you his some more and you hated and hated yourself above all you hated your body you hated your soul your heart your everything you saw the worst in everything you shut yourself out you became mute and the worst part? No one knew.
Age fifteen: Still the same. Only, worse, worse, worse worse words.
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 7:32 PM UTC
Why the bad life?
Was it the bad moments?
The wrong people?
Or did we simply arrive
in the wrong era?
Because sometimes
it didn’t feel bad at all.
For a while
everything made sense.
The timing.
The people.
The little accidents
that became memories.
Days moved strangely,
as if something invisible
was arranging everything quietly.
There was chaos, yes.
But there was laughter inside it.
There was beauty between failures.
There were seconds
where being alive felt almost unreal.
Maybe life was never one thing.
Maybe we just remember pain louder
than we remember peace.
Because looking back—
even the broken parts
had a strange kind of magic.
Almost like a dream
we complained about
while we were still inside it.
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 11:41 AM UTC
Today too the birds sang before the break of day,
Pouring pearls of praise along the sky's awakening way.
The night still wore its robe of indigo and gleam,
Yet from each branch arose a song, a hope, a dream.
A saffron veil was cast upon heaven's trembling edge,
As dawn approached the world like mercy's solemn pledge.
The lark proclaimed, "Arise! Let not thy spirit sleep,"
While golden notes like sacred rivers wandered deep.
No throne they owned, no sceptre bright, no crown of gold,
Yet richer were their songs than treasures ever told.
Each feather seemed a pen inscribed with light above,
Each melody a testament of gratitude and love.
O’ heart, why bow before the griefs that come and go?
The stars themselves are lit by fires that burn below.
The breeze replied in accents tender, soft, and clear:
"Where faith resides, the dawn of joy is ever near."
The eastern heavens blushed with ruby, rose, and flame,
As every singing creature magnified His Name.
Today too the birds sang early in the morn,
And from their hopeful praise new worlds of hope were born.
So rise, O’ soul, and learn the wisdom of their song:
Through praise the weak grow mighty, and the weary heart grows strong.
2d ago
Jun 1, 2026 at 1:22 AM UTC
Blind following
can
lead to
accidents
that may
not damage
the
eyes except
damage the
heart
Following
customs
can lead
to sin
that may
have been
avoided
were the
Trust in
Allah
was more
than the
trust
in the people
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 12:07 PM UTC
Certificates that
can be
for
hourly
rates
oh wait
certificates
can they
be earned
whilst being
late
Allah
that gives
what is
on
the plate
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 7:57 AM UTC
Can I understand
the nature of a scorpion sting,
barbs breaking skin
and burning, undue suffering?
Can I understand
the empty hole of human greed,
soul-sucking, devoid of conscience,
putrid festering maggot seed?
Can I understand
the rage of the oppressed
spilling over generations later,
the screams of another yet, suppressed?
I can, I find.
And I think that I am inexcusable;
but I am not a stinger,
or greedy,
or cruel beyond compare -
because I may understand...
but I will
never
accept.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 12:08 AM UTC
Sole stars shine together in a nightly swirl
sharing light with the collective whorl as each wink
in turn. I am only my mother's son in this moment.
As is everyone a bright point in the lineage of our family,
looking up at a familiar heavenly mirror.
Even the heavens fade.
Minds reflect this godly tact.
Entropy is a fact that we fight
or are we acting?
Afraid to admit how warm the cold's embrace?
How law dictates we hold opposing states.
Clinging silence saturates space between bodies,
between sparks of life.
Fretful existentialism balanced by... nothing.
Whole galaxies begin, then submit,
when only a simple hello reaches me past the moonlight.
The dead quadrillions, beckoning. (More?)
Countless hellos overwhelm.
Connecting with the universe through metaphor is beautiful
but after all, we are only human.
Messy in our emotion.
The restless observer should practice patience
to find peace under heaven.
Stoic stars accept a proper pace of decay.
Us people struggle
to fade with grace.
3d ago
May 30, 2026 at 10:28 PM UTC
Today my friend got hit by a bike.
For some reason
I feel like it's my fault
because I convinced her to come.
We were supposed to go
for a movie night,
laugh at scenes
that weren't funny,
judge people
the way we are used to.
Right now
my guilt is killing me.
All I can do
is visit her,
hold her hand,
hug her,
and wish
she never bruised her arm.
That's how unpredictable
life can be.
Today we are here,
but who really knows
about tomorrow?
That's how
an ordinary day
is a privilege.
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 1:24 PM UTC
Tell her child that no man wipes the feet of a bedridden grey woman,
No gods enter the room collecting dust of insanity and assumptions.
As the star splits from the sky, ask her, what wish she wished ?
Tell the lady to join the humor,
The well gaundily sits holding her coins.
Rusting and remembering, she taints the land,
Taints the mirth of the noble romance.
Tell her child,her judgments elipsed by faith,
This stench of melancholy; no river shall wash it away.
Written in stone, etched perfectly on both the palms.
The prophecy; the certainty, perhaps the most well-fitted plan.
Take her away and remind her my son,
The half of her soul, the half that she yearns,
The half of existance, the half that might never come.
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 12:05 PM UTC
Do not teach a man like chains teach iron,
For wisdom is not born from command.
The eagle learns the secret of heaven,
By tearing through storms across the land.
A borrowed light soon dies in darkness,
Truth must awaken deep within.
He who ignites another soul,
Speaks less—and lets the fire begin.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 11:23 AM UTC
This cowardice has become my respite.
These thoughts sober me as I live my drunk vicarious life.
I was following the straight and narrow
until drugs made me think twice.
Chemicals of life brew in my brain.
We are born high. We can only come down.
Who wears the crown?
The king or the clown?
Reservation to act exclusive,
or rather, being reclusive.
My laugh is a frown.
I observe the inherent inheritance in all *****
Still, when social I simmer merit behind my wall
because the humourless act so appalled by a black comedy.
The line between tragedy and chuckles is thin.
Where does one begin?
Waffling can turn you into a pancake.
What an absurd joke.
Does every normal bloke feel this way?
Is it just me, lying alone?
Playing my games in my head. Feeding bread to pigeons on a cold day.
They come home to roost in my lofty burden.
Noise breaks darkness yet the loud are uncouth.
Aloof equals enlightenment because silence breeds truth.
I’m shouting nonsense for fear of the unheard
and mixing up lots of meaningless words.
6d ago
May 28, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC
A mother bear and
cub — the rifle hesitates
a moment longer.
6d ago
May 27, 2026 at 9:47 PM UTC
a broken string
a silent bell
a same old thing
the lies we tell
we're worlds apart
we're thick as thieves
a dying art
we make believe
we come and go
we dream and dare
the more we know
the less we care
a broken heart
a silent scream
a brand new start
a truth within
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 6:20 AM UTC
When you keep tasting one flavor,
you begin to believe it is the only version
of sweetness that exists.
You forget that the universe
has many kinds of sugars.
Some are not the loud ones,
some are waiting to be tasted.
Sometimes what we call enough
is what we’ve known so far.
Sometimes growth is not about abandoning
what we know,
but allowing ourselves
to taste more than one life.
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 3:02 PM UTC
It was world mental health week
And what am I supposed to write about?
I can't share my stories.
No one wants to hear them.
The pages online are already full
Sob stories, cliches
Broken homes are scattered
Like a glass a drunk already regrets
Breaking
Breaking, breaking
Why is everyone so close to breaking?
Why is it always about falling apart?
Or, being glued together
Is stitching wounds so out of fashion?
Most of us aren't broken
No one is whole
We're somewhere in between
A tight fitting jacket with a buckling seam
Strapping
But the brand still slaps, so it'll do
I don't have a story
No angels or demons
Fables, fantasies or fabrics
Just
Hear yourself out
Get some space if you need it
Do right by it
And try not to quit
That's basically it
Well
There's your poem about mental health
From the well of a thousand voices
Cheers
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 2:14 PM UTC
Sunday, 3rd May, 2026
Somewhere in my thoughts
I don’t know if it’s a good idea to bleed on this paper, but I think I have to. It might be the only way of letting go.
Today, on this Sunday, I have decided to choose myself. In some situations, all we can do is step back.
Why is it that every time I open up, I end up being hurt? This time I met him and thought, no… maybe this time will be different. Maybe he will never hurt me.
But here I am — on the floor, crying, unable to breathe, trying to imagine a life without him and failing.
I never thought choosing myself would hurt this much.
— Letters by Wanjiru 🌷
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 4:48 PM UTC