oh dear august, my birth mom

why must thy always forsake me?

or do you just hate me?

just ten days after you begat me

just ten days after, you killed me

oh my dear august, out of everyone else

you were the one i trusted to be good to me.

but instead you took from me and made my eyes bleed

or am i one of the children that you hate?

one of the one's you wished you never begat

sometimes i imagine September as my parent,

maybe she would have been kinder to me.

i am convinced that i was conceived out of hatred

maybe that's my explanation for the hatred life has for me.

i just want one year with you where i can thank you for the happiest year of my life.

i'm stuck in this loop, this never ending loop of pain.

i know i am your eleventh child but sometimes i feel like the thirty fourth.

you call me sfálma— i understand.

you’ve successfully chased away all of my friends.

i am your lonely child— this i accept.

but for just one year out of the few left.

i ask that you let me live without regret.

i ask that you let me fly even though i am just an eaglet.

for just one year, can you let me be myself?

i feel like an excerpt like the chosen one for injustice.

for just one year can justice be served?

i want to eat from the table of justice and drink from the cup of peace.

i want to play like a child, i want my mind void of fear.

i want to be happy, but all you have taught me is pain.

i am kindly asking that the next time we meet you grant my wishes.

i want to smile, not cry.

i want to touch the sky.

i want to be alright.

but above all, i want to experience the happiest year of my life.

it is tobii, your eleventh child.

“Hello, Who is this?”

“It’s me Uncle, It’s Adanna. I…I went to Mum’s house today”

A brief moment of silence stretched between us. He finally spoke again this time his tone had changed, sounding much more confident and alarmed. “You did what? Why did you go there alone?”

My throat was parched, i swallowed hard. “I needed my documents. But that’s not even why I’m calling. There was a box in her room. The one she always warned me never to touch. I opened it and I heard her voice. Uncle she told me to drop it. Uncle she sounded really angry“

There was another brief moment of silence. This time even heavier than the first. I could hear him breathing, slow and deliberate trying to choose the words to say.

“Listen to me Ada” he said breaking the silence that felt like forever “Do not go back to that house. And whatever you do, do not open that box again. That box isn’t just hers. It holds things, things that should have remained buried with her”

My heart began pounding again “What things Uncle, What’s Inside it?”

He let out a sigh that sounded like a man carrying tears of secrets “Ada, your mother wasn’t just secretive. She was a custodian. That box contains old pacts and secret bindings with forces we had no business dealing with, She guarded that box with her life…and apparently even in death, if you disturbed it, it might be too late already”

A sudden chill filled my apartment despite the windows being close, something similar to what I had felt at my mothers place. The lights flickered. Once. Then twice.

“Too late for what?” I whispered back in fear.

Before he could say anything the line went silent. I stared at my phone in confusion and tried to call my uncle again. No signal. My phone’s screen went blank for a second before returning to normal.

That was when I noticed it, Right on the center table next to my recovered documents sat the box, Small, wooden and eerie in some kinda way, it had strange carvings marked on it that seemed to move when I looked directly at them. I was certain I did not it home with me. I was sure of it.

But yet there it was.

I want you to notice things about me that i don’t even notice about myself. I want you to plant kisses on my body like seeds so i can grow to love myself even more. I don’t just want you to make me happy. I want to be happy with you.

I want you to be the one I can call anytime. The one who would pick up on the first ring. The one I randomly send voice notes to when I’ve got nothing to do or when a random thought pops into my head. I want you to over explain when I overthink. To be my pair of safe hands. I want you to call me randomly because you missed my voice.

I want your lips on mine. And our hands laced together like hands in prayer. How do i want to love you?. Regularly. I want to love you every single day and in every single moment. Tenderly. I want to be the gentle calm within your storm. Spontaneously. I want to be wild and free with you. never forcing it, never holding anything back. Insanely. I want to love every part of you the way a mad man loves every loaf of bread. Sensually. I want to hold you and touch you like you’ve never been touched before.

Talk to me when you feel down. As much as I want you to be my safe space, I would also like to be yours. I want you to yearn for my presence in my absence, not in an obsessive manner, but in a way that makes you want to share your experiences with me. Maybe even plant a kiss on my forehead when I have a raging headache.

I want you to be able to give me your good days and the bad one’s. Don’t just tell me your dreams. Tell me your nightmares too. Give me your body and let me love your scars. I don’t just want to hold your hand. I want to understand. I don’t just want to see you when the sun shines. I want to be there in the storm.

I want you to hold my hands when I feel down, not talking but enjoying the silence, not the awkward kind but the peaceful kind. I want you to sit with me on the days I feel like saying nothing, just staring into the nothingness. I have experienced only familiar love. I hope that when I get to experience another, It’s kinder, and feels like sunshine after a rainy day.

I want to make your brown eyes, my blue skies. I want to love you deeper than the mind can define. I want the world to look at us and say “These two are divine.” I wish i could give you the opportunity to see yourself through my eyes. I want to drink you up like strawberry wine. I want you to come into my very bleak life and be the star that shines every time. The one that never stops shining bright.

I want you to love me even in the weird. Even when I get excited over a cup. Even when i wake up, with my morning breath and my hair, all frizzy. Love me as I am even when I let my guard down.

I know that love like this never comes easy, I know there would be Pain, Distance, Misunderstandings and even Growth. But if we decide to choose each other over and over again. We’ll find the kind of love that others dream about. The kind that doesn’t just survive a storm but one that becomes unbreakable because of it.

I went to get my car keys from the table in preparation for a meeting I had scheduled for this morning. While getting the keys, I searched for my documents. I scattered the table and left it in total disarray. “My documents, where are they?” I exclaimed in anger. There was no way I could have misplaced them. With anger, I dropped my key back on the center table and sat back on the sofa to recollect where I might have dropped them. All I could think of was seeing them last at my mother’s house.

Suddenly it hit me “My mother’s house.” They had to be there. So I picked up my keys and bolted out of the house.

Before I drove out the gate, I sat for a moment and said to myself, “It has been so long since I went there. I wonder how the place might be.” Before I eventually took the decision to leave the house. On the road and in the car, doubt kept creeping into my mind, wondering if I should go back or not, but my mind was made up, so I pushed forward.

When I finally arrived, everything felt strangely familiar, almost as if I could see the scenes from my childhood playing out. I remembered how my lips would twist and how my eyebrows would knit together with fury whenever my mother would restrain me. I remembered how deeply I loathed the house and how I often stomped down the hallway, filled with anger. But now suddenly I was back, back in my childhood home.

I took one step in and I could still feel her presence. It surrounded the house almost as if it had never left. I was proceeding to my room when I saw my mother’s room. Oh, how I’ve missed her. I remembered her always being secretive and not letting everyone into her room, but now she’s not here.

“I miss you so much, Mummy,” I whispered to myself, and proceeded to go and get what I came for.

After gathering all I had come for, curiosity struck me and what followed quickly behind it was doubt. I had seen my mother’s room again but was unsure whether to go in or not. I stood in front of the door and thought for a minute before taking a deep breath. My decision was made. I took one step in and it was a mess. It had not been cleaned in a long while and the room still carried the faint scent of her lavender perfume. For a second it felt like she might walk in at any moment.

I walked carefully, taking one step after the other, and after brushing myself against one item or the other, I finally found something that caught my eye. a box.

I had never seen what was inside this box. My mother always warned me against touching it, but my mother is gone. There is no one to stop me now.

As quickly as I touched it, the air in the room grew heavier and I felt a cold air brush the back of my neck even though all the windows were closed. Then I heard a familiar voice, low and filled with fury, defying the silence “You were not supposed to find that.” I was perplexed because nothing about this box seemed extraordinary. “Drop that box. Now!” the voice said even louder and angrier this time. I looked around with fear in my eyes wondering where the voice may have come from. Just as quickly as i looked I slammed the box shut and ran out from the room as fast as I could, my heart hammering against my chest like it wanted to escape. My face carried an expression that looked like someone that had seen death. I quickly carried what I came for and left the house.

I ran to my car with the speed of lightning, when i got in i was visibly shaking and breathing like i just completed a 100 meter race. “What was that?” I asked myself like I had the answer, I pinched myself hard just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming but alas it was not a dream, it was very real.

After sitting in the car for an awful amount of time I finally started the car and headed back to my apartment.

Back at my apartment, I still could not believe what I had heard. “I must have been dreaming,” I repeated to myself, trying to convince myself that it was all a dream, but the documents on the table proved otherwise and creeped me out even more. I picked up my phone, hands shaking, and hurriedly dialed my uncle.

until the silence becomes louder and the days start to become longer

when you realize watching the clouds drift no longer soothes,

when you go from a talkative to the person that forgets to talk

when you spend your days wishing there was another dimension

but realizing that we’re forever gonna be small in this earth nation

trying your best to keep your mind on the road but unable to focus

because of the one too many thoughts in your head

because you’re thinking about everything all at once so it can come to an end

re-assuring yourself even when they refuse to stick by you

even when your mind starts to feel like a prison—taking only what’s been given.

i cannot be the only one that feels genuinely bored of life.

staying quiet feels easy, it is avoiding rejection and regret but what happens after?

the reason alot of people don’t speak up is because of protection, but honestly can you really blame anyone?

not expressing your feelings is similar to building a prison with no escape

sometimes staying silent feels safe, but soon it slowly becomes a habit

and you figure out that you’ve slowly become someone that watches their life instead of live in it

is it better to speak or to die? i spoke once and died that day but don’t worry i die in small doses everyday.

i woke up too early and have been taking too long preparing to exist.

i carry my awareness of defeat like a victory banner

i am a dreamer but in my dreams i wonder are all the characters me?

i have met too many people that lack a single drop of humanity

and yet they blame society, when whereas we are society.

whenever the volcano inside of me threatens to erupt, i take two steps back

because i’d rather swallow the fire than intentionally burn someone else.

i am terrified of losing everything yet i am aware that i own nothing

i thought i was losing the race, until i realized that there is no race

sometimes i want nothing at all, other days i crave it all.

i am like a patient that cannot point to where it hurts, only knowing that it does

i am like an empty stage where actors perform their loudest plays

in this world, the brave die, the smart go insane and the only happy one’s are fools.

i always feel pity for the over thinkers, and i have never met a day that didn’t matter

but no matter how we try, we cannot go back to the past.

depression does not need an invitation to come into your life

and the hardest lesson to learn is how to be alone all again

the hardest battles in life are the one’s inside your head

but sometimes holding on to what makes you sad is good

because it reminds you that you were once happy—it reminds you that life is a white Ferrari.

my name sounds borrowed,

my face has changed so much

is this the future i begged for as a child?

a physical ache blooms in my chest

i feel my whole world disintegrating,

my memories and my personality,

everything slowly evaporating

at night i scroll through old photos,

like a thief returning to the scene of a crime

remembering what once was with each scroll—

the laughter in them grows louder in this quiet room

it’s proof that the past is real and i am the one who is not,

i long for the version of me that got out of bed without negotiation

the version that laughed without rehearsal

i feel like a childhood friend that disappeared after moving away

the chair across the table still holds the shape of no one.

i pour myself two cups of coffee out of habit, then drink them alone

the second is always cold, always bitter

i put on that one song that knows me too well,

then i let the tears come like old friends,

the ones i have had and never had,

the people who were mine and never mine

everyone around me is laughing but i just smile and nod

the void inside of me grows wider

time is the cruelest thing to happen to me and i cannot recover,

in my heart there’s a gentle whisper:

it was better then and it will never be again

i am a river of words i do not yet possess

yearning for what was, for what could been but was stillborn

i live this life with the constant need of escaping it

like a silver light trembling before the storm.

They say “life flashed before my eyes” apparently it appears not to be fallacy, but if we’re being honest, you are cruel. do you have reasons? are you simply a grandmaster at improv? are you lonely? do you need company? i wanna know, sincerely. —why do you always pluck the most beautiful flowers from the garden? Even if you’re that lonely, haven’t you recruited more than enough?

I hear all the awful things they say about you, they call you scary, a thief, heartless, vile. Yet you seem far kinder than the stories paint you. i miss those years of innocence, when i had no knowledge of you, Now i find myself thinking about the day i’ll finally move in with you, i know it’s decades away but the thought lingers.

i wonder how you treat the people that are already in your home, Are they happy to be there?

They say “After the game, the king and pawn goes into the same box” don’t you think that’s unfair? but who am i to talk to you about fairness when you are known as “the dark”. Over here you’re almost a celebrity, everyone thinks about you quietly though they won’t admit it but they do. You’re the friend that always keeps their promise—you are the night that inevitably follows a sunny day.

You are the greatest lover of the world, you love it so much you consume it entirely, Sometimes i wonder, after everything, after you satisfy your raging thirst and drink till your heart’s content what next? When the garden is finally rid of all it’s flowers, What next? When you run out of wine to drink, What next? When hunger strikes and there is no food in sight, What next?

I used to consider myself a great cinephile but i’ve come to realize that i can’t compete with you, you’ve watched more movies and seen more endings than anyone, you kinda deserve a record for that unbroken streak. When you reach the end of each movie, do you cry? or did you simply watch with an expressionless face? i wonder, what your favorite genre is?

Many people describe you as beautiful but i do not see it that way, you are not beautiful to me. but i must admit that amongst many things you are honest, you are sincere and true. i only wish you’d take more time to notice the details of the artist show a little respect for his art.

Isn’t it crazy how someone can spend years on earth, years that seemed endless at a point and all of a sudden, you can’t just see them anymore or even speak to them, all those long years of laughter, memories, tears, love and shared happiness simply just dissolves into time.

in the end, nobody really knows anybody or anything, we only know what we’re told or what we choose to believe.

But can i really blame you for anything? the people i stay with harbor evil in their minds against each other, they invite you into their everyday conversations. some of them have even developed feelings for you, you’re an outsider yet you’ve fit in perfectly.

I know I cannot fully understand your ways. You are mysterious, just like your brother. I only hope you’ll allow me enough time on the field before you substitute me. I want to score a hat-trick before I leave. I know this game won’t last forever. I just want my name on the scoreboard—so they’ll know that I was here.

In this world there have always been insane people—and people who were assumed to be insane. Insanity is the mental state right before someone gets labeled “abnormal.” There’s a pandemic of madness these days, everywhere i look i see mad people.

This is not new, it’s been circulating for a long time. But it’s back again, even harder, hitting this generation and, spreading fast in this 21st century. It’s mostly the teens and young adults who think this is the only way to birth meaning in their lives.

The M.A.Dness (Making A Difference) has spread vastly and is now the order of the day. everyday, everywhere someone is inspired to do something great, something that would cement their names in the sands of time, but alot of people forget to live while chasing that meaning.

Making a difference may sometimes cost a person’s sanity, The world belongs to the ones that genuinely make a difference, it belongs to those who are insane, acknowledge their insanity and choose to make meaning of the insanity so it could be translated to sanity.

I am also a victim. At this point creating something feels like a do or do situation, yes i want to be remembered for doing something great, but i also want to live.

The feeling of insanity starts immediately after childhood. when innocence goes missing madness is born. Life has no rules—it’s a mystery. And knowledge is only our attempt to making life comprehensible.

We’re all on borrowed time. No one knows the exact expiration date, so it’s fair to want to leave a mark while we’re here. Alot of people have lost touch with reality in desperation for making a difference. Everybody wants fame, just like Da Vinci or Micheal Jackson. some people want to be famous writers, others just want the spotlight, but only few people are willing to endure the full process of M.A.Dness to get there.

If you ask what i think life is about i’ll say; the destination, the journey, it’s like going on a family road trip, passing monuments and sharing special moments with your family. The journey matters the most because it determines the destination, the people we meet, the memories we share, the laughters, the dreams.

Let’s be real the world is corrupt. women can be deceitful, men wicked, boys horny and girls lonely. Life is beautiful but to see it you must first be you. Freewill enables us with the power to live and explore life but never at someone’s expense. Use your freewill to spread love and create art.

Embrace that little voice in your head that tells you how awesome you are, Do everything you want, you are capable. get rid of shame in your life.live for the plot, all the things you want to hear, say them to yourself first. choose yourself, choose life.

if you got to this point i’ll say these lastly, Live. Create and Live again. We make the decision to live when we start wielding the power of choice to our advantage properly, every single adult has the power to choose. there is always a choice, what is needed is a decision. make a positive decision and work towards it. Slow motion is still motion.

Life is Life. Live.

I don’t think i want to keep giving people access to me. i have been vulnerable, i have been reclusive, i have had my fair share of solitude, and i feel like it’s often always better to be by yourself.

I know deep down that i have to do something before i leave. every day feels like the last, and time is running out—everyone knows that, i know that.

I also know that when time finally and eventually runs out, there is an artist that took time out of his generosity and sculpted another clock, a clock that never runs out of time.

But in time we realize how most of the things that make us up are who we are on the inside, and sometimes we do not realize on time how much we rip out from the inside to patch the outside.

A lot of individuals these days go bankrupt before they even start to live, because they empty their personal accounts for other people. they spend all the currencies they have. the love, the smiles, the curiosity, the feelings, and most importantly, the time. when realization hits and they finally open their eyes, they realize that they no longer have any currency to spend, and they may have run out of time to purchase more.

There is beauty in life and the thought of what could happen, but there is also beauty in letting go. i look at myself in the mirror sometimes; i see a different person, a pair, a duo—an inside and an outside. but i want to ask: which do you think matters most? the picture inside or the reflection outside?

I write my words and read them with the lens of feelings. they can say i have dumb ideas, but that’s not what i see through my lens of feelings. i am the next-door neighbor of the simpletons, i ask them: how do you do it? how do you find joy in the small details of life? it’s not that they are smarter or stronger—it’s me, i’m different. i wish i could just enjoy the simple things of life. on the days when my skin turns blue, i wish i was a simpleton.

We live in a wabi-sabi world, and one of its secrets is that death must come before life is given, yet i am my own sun.

There are many types of art in this world, but i think that music and love are the greatest art of all. i think, i think, i sleep, i wake up and i think again. i see people do things and wish that i did them. i hear them say things and wish that i said that. there is nothing i’ll say that has not been said before, but maybe i just prefer reading them in my own words.

In conclusion, i would implore the audience and say to you: “don’t just sit there and watch me—do something with your life.”

Charles bukowski said: “a spark can set a whole forest on fire. just a spark. save it.”

despite our clueless acts as kids,

we know that we miss it, the emotions and the tranquil,

i know sometimes you rue the past, but alas what has passed is in the past.

the other day at the market,

i tried buying myself a little peace.

i paid in memories, i paid with ghosts—

i think it fair to trade memories for a little peace.

requited love grants us a strange kind of superpower,

but reassurance is the quiet fuel that keeps it burning while you wield it.

ask who a hero is, i’ll tell you: someone who believes in themselves and still in others.

people do absurd things sometimes,

and validate it as soon as someone nods in agreement.

it’s our first time here, we are all navigating without a map or a guide.

if only emotion could be enough,

if only i could draw it in the sky like Harold.

i hope your fears slowly subside,

and that when the tide rises—it cradles you.

embrace your whimsy,

waiting is outdated.

good things come to those who yearn,

in this wabi sabi world,

it’s hard to stay positive.

yet this is exactly where i choose to exist.

unto us a child is born—

he grips my thumb, gentle—yet already sure.

even then you could tell this one was already cracked pottery,

destined to kiss the floor long before the rest of us.

i never was one for reading the story through.

so i skip ahead: the child becomes the teenager,

and like martin he had a dream,

but just like every dreamer—he had to wake up to reality.

he had no trust for himself, and that was the origin of his self doubt.

from where i stand, i can see a stream of tears.

grief and loss can increase the length of days,

and hours can sometimes start to feel like days.

people say death is the kindest way to lose someone.

death, you are not kind, you’re just impatient.

time is the hungrier mouth—it chews us slowly anyway.

just like sunflowers in snow, we are all going under.

perfect only exists in art and in your head.

the child is no longer a teen, he is now a man.

his cracks are visible they look ruined beyond repair,

strangers look at him with despair but he doesn’t fret.

he says to their hearing, being whole is just a start—it’s nothing but a path, a mere draft,

you should know that real art starts with a crack.

a cleft wide enough for light to pour through,

the museum became quiet, he cracks.

he waves his battle flag—torn but stitched with molten gold,

making it much more prettier than when it was mend.

a massive collection of his mistakes,

smeared with gold in between.

the child is dead.

a man is born.

he knows now what it means to have purpose.

welcome to T.N.A…i am your host tobii and My yapic today is about “Love” but today would be different because for the first time we are having a Yap session with someone else and her name is Zee, She is a very captivating writer and a very deep thinker, Here is a brief introduction to Zee.

Her hobbies are reading novels and sleeping she likes chocolate and she hates loud places and people.

Few of her goals are to become the B.G.S and also to become a full stack developer…now sit back and enjoy the conversation between me and zee.

I love relationships.

Romantic ones, and even the platonic one’s. i’ve dated a handful of people and i have had a good time through and through, i especially want to talk about the romantic type.

because i have drank from it’s river and dined in it’s chambers, i have worked as it’s servant and now i am observant and hopeful that i get the chance to be loved and to love again.

I hate relationships.

Romantic ones. Platonic ones too, if I’m being honest, but the real aversion sits with the romantic kind.

Not because I’ve been burned. Not because I tried and failed. I’ve never even been in one.

Which makes my discomfort feel illegitimate to some people, like you need scars before you’re allowed to flinch. But confusion is its own kind of experience

I sometimes reverie on the days that i was in love and how it all felt like it was just enough, i have experienced love in different ways from God and humans and i’ll tell you for a fact, don’t let them break your heart if you cannot find the right person find God, He is love.

I do not understand the architecture of romance. The rules feel unwritten, yet rigid. You’re expected to feel different things at once. To show emotions in a way that is socially acceptable. To love, date, commit, talk. As if affection is a subject everyone studied.

Romance is a tender feeling it requires no teacher, it is innate, attached to every living thing and they express it in the ways they can. We cannot completely ignore, everybody has a form of love in their life, if some of the most cruel people can still try to live that “happy family” life then maybe love is for all who seek it.

What I do understand, is infatuation.

Infatuation is loud, impatient, short lived. It thrives on possibilities rather than reality. It fills in gaps with fantasy and lust and calls it intimacy. And the more I observe romantic relationships from the outside, The more I wonder how much of what we call love is simply infatuation stretched over time, dressed up with consistency and shared inconvenience.

To be loved, To express it, To feel it, we cannot run from love we were made from love and made to love. We are all here because two people got together and decided they wanted to stay together and build a family, that’s love. Staying together all the years after, that’s love.

I understand your point of view, Yes the world often twists love into something else. But from afar, things can appear to be what they are not. Love is blind, and beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

We meet someone at their best, We fall for who they could be to us, the image of them we’ve chosen to portray in our heads. Then we negotiate the rest and agree it was a compromise.

Romantic relationships ask for access to your time, your emotions, your future decisions.

They demand vulnerability but rarely guarantee gentleness in return. Even platonic relationships carry this quiet weight of expectations to show up, to respond correctly, to be emotionally available even when you’re still unable to figure yourself out.

I don’t hate people, I hate the quiet promise that comes with closeness. The contract you unknowingly sign.

I prefer music to people. As a matter of fact i would listen to music for 20hours straight if i was a nepotian. People come into your life, mess it up and expect you to fix up…There are good people out there but the truth is there are just as much bad people and that’s why it is okay to be skeptical but someone like me wouldn’t even mind taking the risk of falling in love again at the slightest opportunity, Life is an experience, And i’m experiencing.

There’s also the way romance is sold, As a need, a fulfillment. A proof of emotional maturity. If you opt out or show any sign of hesitation, you’re framed as avoidant, damaged. Nobody asks whether distance can be a deliberate and thoughtful choice

Sometimes be quiet, take a stroll and listen to the world…love is everywhere. We bother ourselves about the inevitable too much. Enjoy the slow burns, the picnics or outings. the late night calls, you only have this long to be a teen and even if you are a youth then you should remember you were once a teen, Savor it.

And if you meet someone that you think is not good for you, tell them, it is bad to hurt people because karma won’t forget she always pays her debt.

message me if you want to rekindle a vibe!

till next time on Tobii’s Yap Sessions!

i will turn you to poetry

and sing to you like lana to henry

i will write to you and walk with you once upon a dream

i would build two twin towers

so whenever you wake up i can see you from my window

and i will tell the whole world that you are my stargirl.

just promise me that you won’t be slow to feel, because for you i have tried to be something i cannot be.

with you i understood that people can change, and i ask that you hold my heart close to you and remember that it always beats for you

and at the end you know my heart belongs to you.

🤍

before you start reading listen to this song:

Who Knows, Daniel Ceaser

from me to you❤️

black beautiful radiant star

your beauty shines, near and far

your smile lights up the darkest of days,

you’re special—gorgeous in every way

what big brown eyes, like the stars in the skies,

what thick black hair, you’re elegance personified

what a cheerful giver—with a heart open wide

always shining even in the dark hours of night

strong like mary slessor, with endless care

nigerian diana, so precious, so rare

your heart of Gold is like treasures—so divine

you’re a star in your time, eternal in your shine

oh what a blessing you are to behold

don’t let them break you, you’re a story yet untold

walk boldly, dear queen, put on your crown

pay no attention to the jests of silly clowns

hermosa la mujer, you’re like a beautiful song

words escape me—in my eyes you have no flaws,

in my coldest hours you bring me warmth,

you’re always there, even when the day gets dark,

you’re so caring sometimes i wonder,

overbearing you embrace my blunders,

never doubt the strength you bear,

you should never feel less of yourself

a fierce spirit yet you’re as soft as air

like deep rivers, your wisdom flows

my love for thee, shall forever soar

this i promise—forevermore.

he’s so pretty in black and white

when the filter is green, then it’ll catch his eye.

why can he hear voices in his head?

stop talking to him, he’s not your friend.

he felt it in his heart, he’s fighting with the tide

how long? how long shall he continue to hide?

you know he’s tired, and you know he cried

and do you know he tore his clothes to mourn your demise

why is he in a dream that is not his?

where art thou, his eternal sunshine?

city of stars that shine just for him.

one night he prayed, he prayed that for just one second that he could experience the warmth of—EQUALLY RETURNED LOVE.

is it his fault, the things that happened?

is there a vault with his anger locked in it?

why can’t you look in the mirror—he says

you are just a boy, he says.

just a boy that has been in a blackhole, he says

an empty, dark, dark dark hole,

life is a wormhole

sucks you in before you know it, he said.

all of a sudden it’s 2013 again

he wakes up happy but it doesn’t show on his face.

he missed going to class just to see his friends

he missed leaving the house just to have a good laugh downstairs.

que sera sera, what ever will be will be.

that’s how he changed, he became nonchalant—mean

the greatest transformation no one believed

he likes to stay alone, in his room he has a throne.

sometimese it gets really confusing,

your head might even start spinning

from thinking of the possible outcome of things,

when i sleep, i have dreams of my dreams.

i have dreams of what i want to be

God’s grace, i pray—come upon me,

guide me and when i’m lost restore me

i am nothing but a mere human being.

when dark waves and fears arise all around

i have faith in you, i know you’ll come around

you’re my friend, i have no fear,

in my confusion—you’re always there.

even when all i see is endless black

you heal my eyes, you show me the light

even on the days i am afraid to ask

you know my thoughts, you know my heart

you’re the best friend, you understand

no one like you, you’re forever true

when troubles weigh, i’ll run to you

your love renews, each morning’s new

king of kings, none can compare

the caring father, the truest friend

your love runs deeper than the ocean’s depth,

when my faith is faint, you remind me how—

you suffered so i could find my strength,

shed tears so i could wipe my face

you hungered that i may be fed

why should i worry, why should i fret?

he listens, he never judges, he comforts me,

he bears my burdens, he carries my cross—

when words fail me, he reaches for me

a patient friend, he waits for me

he doesn’t care about my mistakes

he strengthens me on all my weak days

when i am weary, he gives me rest

he’s always online, he answers my calls

am i worthy of your boundless love?

i say sorry all the time, i hurt you a lot

sometimes i go back to the crime—

i’m unworthy of your love, but still you give me more than enough.

despite your many friends you still have time for me.

you open my eyes to see what true love means

you chastise me but still you comfort me

i am lucky to be your friend, i am lucky you understand.

it’s time again, it’s time to unwind

let’s do it today, let’s free our minds

who gave the rule, that boys don’t cry

if one can’t feel, what’s the meaning of life?

boys are meant to be soldiers, boys don’t cry

we went back in time—back circa 99,

such a colorful world, but i’m color blind,

i look around me and all i see is black and white.

kick your foot against the stone

hit your head hard on a pole

bite your tongue till blood flows

you can do this because, boys don’t cry.

you know what if feels like to be alone

you need a miracle, you need nanny mcphee,

you look to the sky, you spoke to the guy

he whispered silently—boys don’t cry

people get up and leave without saying goodbye

is it a federal crime to at least say why?

you’re pondering, your brain suggests you cry.

you want to but you can’t—because boys don’t cry.

somebody just died but you have to be strong

you want to crash out, but if you do you’re wrong.

you try to accept, denial rings all day long

you can feel the great escape—but you prevent it because boys don’t cry

you’re lonely, you have nobody to be lonely with

you’re doom-scrolling, you have no one to text

you are a second class citizen, you have no friends.

you remember, boys don’t cry, so once again you yearn.

you’re a secondary character in your own movie

and at this point you just got shot in the heart

you’re bleeding out but you refuse to die

so you say to yourself—boys don’t cry.

do you even think of me once in a while?

do you love me or you just had pity on my life?

why couldn’t you choose between them and i?

you left—i didn’t but i almost cried.

you’ve become a frequent habitué in my head.  
a sea of possible outcomes plays in my mind.  
within my thoughts, there’s a silent whisper,  
a quiet reminder—my heart repeatedly lingers.

i give you my heart with utmost dread.
i am afraid you’ll leave me for dead.  
i need assurance, i need a friend.  
i wish you were here, i wish you’d care.  

but my heart goes on and on and on,  
defiant as a stone—they call me stubborn.  
i ask that you let me love you,  
give me the license to freely think of you.  

i want to stop feeling this heavy guilt. 
there’s no need for all this attitude.  
can you just let me fade into you?  
let me show you that you’re my muse.  

let me drown you with my emotions.  
i want to wine and dine with you.  
i cannot stop thinking of you—  
can’t you see that somebody loves you?  

your face shines just like a starry night.  
you are a work of art, and i’m jean basquiat.  
we’re a re-imagined romeo & juliet,  
with a much more promising, happy end.  

i admit i have been such a fool.  
i have been blind to the pulse of truth.  
i’ve been a dreamer, but i’m awake now,  
and i’m not afraid to tell you that…i love you.

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i carry every memory

i am unable to forget

my first noel

a life tainted with regret

my mind resists

yet my heart yearns

oh,if luck were real

i care too much

and that’s my ordeal

i’m a pawn in my own story

like a prisoner

with a life full of misery

money is the national anthem

but i cannot sing

at times it gets embarrassing

and life can be problematic

yet the past reminds me

that it gets better with time

oluwatobiokere@gmail.com