Escribir

  A feast was thrown and I was the centre of celebration Mind you, I wasn't the celebrant  But I was the object of merriment Not for my strength and wits Not for my upright stature  But they feasted  cos they had finally won so they thought What a pity— not for me For the sky can never meet the earth What a waste of feast  By: Sambasy 

  It’s been another long day of forced smiles, forced pleasantries and attempts to cover up the fact that I am breaking inside. I know that I can’t use duct tape to seal cracks in concrete but I try anyway. I want to take in a deep breath,  release it and know that as I do, all my worries disappear never to return. But it’s never that simple. Don’t look at me like you’d like nothing better than for me not to be in pain at this moment. I don’t want your pity and I’m not looking for your sympathy. I’m never at ease anymore. It’s always thoughts about the past or future that keep me up at night chewing on my fingernails  and fraying the edges of my sanity. Don’t look at me like you think I’m losing the plot. I might be, but you’re not allowed to think that. I want just one thing from you. Hug me.  Let me melt in your embrace while you tell me all that I haven’t let you say to me. Tell me that I’m amazing and strong and beautiful, And that you’re always there to catch me,  to listen, and t

  Beneath my brain is wisdom beyond my age Could rule a kingdom–make Solomon jealous I ignore my limits and keep breaking new grounds I disregard gravity, scrambling in space for higher stars Confidently, I beat my chest Yes I'm bragging Despise my person–you'll still keep lagging The world tried to sing my dreams to sleep but it woke Now, the earth is too small a space for my ambitions If it turns to a galaxy, maybe I'd manage So toss me the crown, let the king grant you knowledge Knowledge to spite your demons and strive for good Knowledge to gauge your freedom and stretch from doom Ignite your fire Let the world feel your worth And embrace what you are Let your being come forth BE A FORCE! ! ! By: Sensei

It sucks to be me right now. Staring at the electric chair as I am being led by the warden. I can feel death, staring at me from a corner of the little room.  The Catholic priest came forward, bearing the good news of his God, but I spat in his face because where was his God when I had my travails?  From growing up in the worst parts of the city to having little to no opportunity during my teen years, his good God sat on his throne ignoring all my prayers and requests.  "Have faith" they screamed at me every single day. But I had the faith and I did the work too, but still no reward. Meanwhile, people sat on high pedestals, committing atrocious crimes, and yet he blessed them abundantly.  So I went into crime, and boy how good it felt! Starting from petty crimes to being hired for more serious crimes, I stacked a fortune.  "Repeat after me," the priest said, snapping me out of my thoughts.  "Hail Mary full of Grace..."  I threw another bout of saliva befor

  The radios sang it like a song; peace talks had failed. Dad said war was coming, mom said we were leaving. They came in droves—the recruiters. They needed more men to fight the war they had started. I was barely a young boy so I wasn't considered. Dad called a meeting. He had been picked to represent our family. I remember seeing the postman come in looking very ragged. The letter in his hand was more ragged than he was, it had specs of blood at the base of it. Mom screamed when she saw the heading of the letter, "DEATH NOTIFICATION", written in capital letters. I was fourteen so I couldn't understand why she screamed. The postman looking very unconcerned about her feelings said "The war dey very difficult for the front, we need more men." Mom said no, but her opinion didn't count, because I was whisked and thrown into the back of a truck. There were twenty-five of us, the oldest 18 and the youngest 12. We were sent to a camp and put through some

  My heart bleeds yet it sings My heart knows what is and what's not My heart is real and can't lie It knows how to sing and cry The heart can be the most deceitful of them all It can be swerved by the wind It can be moved by emotions—hurts The heart can sing, cry, bleed and love Love; the heart is being controlled by it Love; the heart pours it out in abundance Love; the things the heart does in its name You can't imagine Yet, the heart of men is desperately wicked Says the Holy books But my heart is controlled by Love—Love of God So my heart sings, it doesn't bleed By: Eddy Bassey