Dec 20

Letter for sins

Dec 20

Hope

Dec 20

River (Yoruban)

Carry my leaves away
Wenizi
Let me baptize the soul
Wenizi
Feel my pain sink away
Wenizi
Come to my river,
Wenizi
Feel the waters
Wenizi
the flowing stream
Wenizi 
Take me, Oshun
Wenizi
Feel the light
Wemile Oshun
Take me, Oshun
Oshun beleru
Feel the wind
Alawede Oshun
Know the river
Moolowo beleru
Wenizi 



 
Dec 20

Go home

The day is dark
I am treated as a doll
Like a rag
A damn toy.
The gears in my brain,
They dont work,
Not for myself
I think my stitching is coming loose
On my own, I had a mind.
Stolen.
I had a heart.
Broken.
Beaded gazes
They leave me empty
I don't need you,
they say Go Home.
What they don't know, 
is I don't have one
I had one, once.
Destroyed. 

 
Dec 19

I'm fine

I watch her as she looks around, mirroring my shaking hands. Her eyes staring into mine, sitting across from me. I let out a little chuckle and she just frowns back at me. Her hair falls sloppily down her front. Toppling down, grazing her shoulder and becoming still at her hip. She looks a bit like me, but more weary. Her eyes look sunken, not much resembling my joyful and open ones. She looks so miserable and skinny. Malnourished. My heart tugs when I see her hip jut out when she shifts. I have a stirring feeling, a compulsion to make sure she is okay.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”
Dec 19

Madness


‘The sun can’t warm me now

I just shouldn’t look down

It’s too blocked by the clouds

And all this creates loud

And I can’t hear anymore

My brain’s gone sore’
She lays on her back, knee folded and arm behind her head, giving the illusion of relaxation.

She softly hums the song to herself. The words melt on her, trying desperately to wake her from whatever twisted nightmare she is living. The outside is cold on her bones, chilled to the touch of her skin. And, the truth is that the sun can’t warm her. The clouds do block it. She tells everyone that she is fine, that she can feel the sun on her skin. Shows them the thing she thinks is sun, they're all too afraid to tell her that it's just a fake. That her sun is growing cold. She knows it isn’t real, she knows that she’s just standing in the snow. Waiting for the frost to creep up her body, freezing her lungs and taking her heart.
Dec 15

The Line

Walking across the line, she can see the little dots down below, barely resembling humans anymore. Looking more like ants, swarming something too big for them to bite off without them even knowing. She didn’t plan on this, but life has a funny way of telling you what to do. Coming to you with ideas at the times that appear inconvenient, and maybe it was the way her mother looked at her with a strange distaste. Or maybe it was the way her sister scoffed at her ripped jeans and her shirt. But, most likely, it was because of the darkness. The seed that started in her heart and spread to her brain. Now the only way to feel the light was to submerge herself further into the darkness. The only way was to feel the wind rush in her hair, and the cold corrupt her. No sunny day, no warm smile would melt the ice wrapped around her heart. And it surely was because of this, that she stood here. The power of the mind taking over the wish of the heart.
Dec 14

The old house- short story

Because of my friends, the quite foolish ones who like to dare and push and pull the limit of comfortability, I find myself alone walking down this strangely deserted street, on which I am not sure has inhabitants. Other than the few rats that wander through them and seek food where food will not be found. There is no sign, yet somehow I feel as if this may be a one way street. For a flash I swear I saw a woman entering the house at the end of the street. It seems more scruffy and torn up. Yellow tape being the only sign of modern day, wrapped up around it tied up with a “scheduled for removal” sign. As I approach the deserted house at the end of the road, I saw the ghostly woman again, an apparition. Yet strangely to me it seems she has my hair flowing down to her back and the same nose I see when I look in a mirror.. As she turns I realize she Is my mother, with the same sunken eyes and weary hands she said goodbye with last year. Before I realize it I am opening the front door.
Dec 14

Gasoline


Standing before The System, her hand is twitching, not shaking. No, twitching.
fighting the urge to use violence.
“Do you  admit to resisting the High Honor, and murdering the Potentate?”
The head of The System had arching eyebrows, putting her in a constant state of anger. The lips once red had been slowly bitten by the years, turning them grey. 
“Yes, I did kill the man.” the girl smirked to herself, such informality towards The System was punishable by death. The entire room was quiet, shocked by the girl's words. The only man sitting in the jury was the one to break the silence.
“Do not speak to the head that way!” 
“Ill talk to her however I want to. I don’t hold her any higher then the damn rats that you kick at your own feet” The girl sneered. The court broke into whispers immediately.
“How dare you-” The man began, but was cut off by the Head.

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