Just when it's time to pen down stuff about you thoughts escape my head into the air, like oxygen through my depleted lungs, this further hallows my mind.
All of a sudden everywhere is quiet, severe loneliness, i can hear my thought; cemetery silence. There's no more talking in my head, and when there is, there's no reply.
All the smile on my face i have to force them, it's stopped forming naturally.
I wish i hadn't threw in the flag, i wish i kept lying i was fine. There was some joy in that despair. This state is harsh for my body to bear. Regardless how i hard i close my eyes, there your image is in front of my heart; like there is another eye that sees you clear inside.
The greatest pain in hell is the soul's inability to love, it's same here when love is not returned. As i write to ease the hurt, i realize the abysmal depth of the cut. The more i write, the more dynamic pain.
Evidently Mother nature put you in the advantaged end, without mercy in your dispensing of judgement as grave misery greet my soul; the harshness in your tone, the coldness in your eyes, your hastiness to say no. Sadly, not a reason of yours is cogent.
Eastern Nigerian girl, in sour ruins you leave me, over my shadowed, deflated self you provide more umbrella shade which permanently relegates me further away from light and plunged into sinking darkness.
Princess Fiona ndi Igbo, animated facial beauty, body used as prescription, for you i have gone mad and back, and i ask 'why was this type of passion made attached to womanhood?, why does sad feelings last long?' glass cuts sure don't feel this way. How can time heal pain, when day after day it seems like spraying cologne on fresh wound on that Okada exhaust pipe patch area.
Negative vibrations i constantly release, negative effects cloud my life's experience. Just get ready for punishment, because you have killed me.
Oh tears! kuku fall let me rest, my chest is full.
THE END
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