If I was a poet I probably would have a lot to say.I would play with words in a way that no one else can.With the uttermost precision,I would use my mouth like the clay porter’ s hands and the end result would always leave me proud.My words would develop some type of stench that would leave a pig smelling like a rose and their fountains would flow out of my veins.My poetic words would instantly charm nature’s sparkle and have the static to complement even the most powerful of Queens.
If I was a poet my words would probably lure every face on the earth to the moonlight ball .They would behave like the animals of the wild.Strike when disturbed.I would develop some unusual confidence if I was a poet like that of a gunslinger pushing his way through the saloon’s swinging doors.
If I were a poet my words would become my Archilles heel.They would carry all my emotions. I would write about the coffee table and how at most times it becomes a resting place for my feet.If I was a poet I would talk about how being poised is more accepted than the art of being outspoken these days.Hiw someone somewhere doesn’t even know how to converse because if they do they think they might just say the wrong thing.
If I was a poet I would write about how bullies conditioned me to feel like I was less of a human being because I chose not to be like them.How it would always sound funny from where they stood but I always missed the jokes.I would write about how I became the clown each time I passed by with my head hung low and my eyes fixed on my shoes the whole time. When like a broken record ,I fumbled with my words and when it happened it always made things worse.I probably would take people through the anatomy of my heart if that would make them understand.I would write about how the windows shutter in the storm and the heart just like the window wriggles in pain.
If I was a poet I would write about the undiscovered contemporary writers before their novels are turned into bestsellers and the growing actors who with time will have their faces plastered all over the screens and magazines.I would write about the aspiring singers and their dreams of releasing an album.I would write about that one kid who sits in his room and stares at the globe the whole day dreaming of flying an airplane and covering every inch of the atlas.I would write about how that one girl,that one boy who feels they are as insignificant as the discolouration on the vintage items in the antique shop.The despair they carry around.
I would talk about how lion king spoke reality better than Ben 10 ever did.Despite the sad scenes that are actually real and in fact hapoen alot in the society we live,Simone and Pumba always made everything much more lively. If I was a poet I would write about how too much Nickelodeon at the age 10 made me think I could sing.
If I were a poet,I would write about how family is not necessarily about blood.The word has been misused for a long time.I would use my words to plant a family tree that would be consisting of only those who have always been there for me.My words would describe how betrayal feels like a bullet to the flesh.I would talk about how we have so much in common with the trees and as such we shouldn’t forget our roots.
If I was a poet I would put it into words that happiness is not sold at liqour stores.I would put it into words that anxiety isn’t an item that can be returned once bought.I would talk about how sanity is being slowly assimilated by insanity.Insanity is the new normal and it’s witling flames are ready to burn bright again.Maybe I was born into an asylum.I am a patient here.
I would probably write more about love.I would better put into words my scars,like rivers and tributaries on a map.I would better say just because it shines,doesn’t make it gold.I would confidently write about all the words with the prefix – ism without need of being told.
If I was a poet I probably would write about opening my eyes to the world for the first and when the doctor held me in his arms and said”It’s a girl “. When I took my first gulp of lacrid air.The first time I cried.I would write about when I was two when I learnt to walk for the first time .when I mastered the art of climbing each and everything that came to sight.When I began learning my alphabets.When I would sing my nursery rhymes with so much gusto until I messed up and would start all over again.Most of the time I was out of tune and I would blubber some incomprehensible words but no one seemed to bother.When I would count 1 to 5 and skip all the way to 10 because I would forget what numbers came between.When I made up my mind to explore my artistic skills which then lead to me vandalizing almost each of the walls.If I didn’t like my art displayed there I would turn to the floors.All markers and pens were kept out of my reach as a result.
I would write about my first time in school.How I made a friend who I thought would be my best but I was too young to understand what toxic meant.Sad to think that there is an added ex.If I was a poet I would write about when I was seven.I wanted to be everything.Those days when I didn’t have too much responsibilities when my dear brother took the blame for everything I did and secretly I felt guilty but I was the youngest and he was the eldest so he had to look out for me.That was then.It is a way different now.
I would write about the clouds and it’s different shapes and forms.About the rude noises occasionally made by the birds.About my love for the evening skies and the beauty of the miasma of different colours that come about.How that time of day reminds me of my mother’s chest and how in it I sought asylum frequently and I would be calm as I listened to the rhythm of her heartbeat play like a song and finally fall asleep.
If I were a poet ,I would write about how death once knocked on my door and stretched out its hand for me to hold.I said no.It insisted that I come along but still my answer was no.Death told me that I was saved by my resistance to an early grave.It left but with a voice so full of cold promised one day it would come and I wouldn’t fight back at all.I would describe the doctors face when he, before I left,looked me in the face and said I was lucky,I probably wouldn’t have made it.That sent shivers down my spine and it still does everytime my mind decides to do a recap.My words would speak and say that disease and ailment,minor they can be,but surety is always key,from the doctor’s office we ought to seek clarity and ignorance is bliss but what you don’t know may actually cause you more harm than good.
If I was a poet I would write about others poets and probably write a piece about if I was a poet over and over again.I would probably write about the rivers,the lakes and still leave room for more.A legion of questions that attack my mind on a daily would be converted to poems.
If I was a poet I would find the right words to write a letter to sleep and convince it to come back already.That I’m still waiting.
A time will come when you realize that life isn’t like the bedtime stories you would read to yourself in the dark of night with night lamp shining bright and your face with a smile with shadows painted on your four bedroom walls.Those ones that always had the happy beginnings and endings.The world has painted you with the most wonderful lies that are bound to wash away with time and that is when reality will set in and your eyes will open wide to reveal the scarecrows in disguise.The garden isn’t flowery at all,it’s full of thorns.The world will carry itself a dagger,wound you and leave you fragile like glass,a lifeless framework.Askeleton to be precise.Buried beneath the roots of the most popular flowers lies what no one knows about.The middlemist red that is hard to find,deep in the ground’s dirt.Something that you will rarely hear people tell.You are still a child living in a fairy tale forest and in time you will come out.An alternate universe.When the time comes and life lets loose its claws,please hold on.Be assured that everything will get better.
You will be forced to grow eyes at the back of your head.You will always have to be on the look-out.You will slowly lose your ability to trust.You will realize not every living being is your friend.Imposters are real and you may just meet the vicious of them all.Of course your knowledge of this is pocket-sized still.
You are not a mistake don’t behave like one.You are better than that.Remeber what you do will influence the person you become.Your heart may sometimes weigh a ton but you will always figure it out.You have to be strong enough to live through the tough times to come.
Don’t be stubborn.Dont be rebellious.Dont make war with everyone and everything around you.Make the right choices lest they affect you in subtle ways because as the saying goes,Regrets are like chicken,they come home to roost.Don’t you dare take a dive into that sea.You may think everyone has your best interest at heart.My dear,that is not how it works.You need to pray and lift your voice to the sky asking for insight.
Perfect is a language that you will take time to learn how to speak. Trying to fit in is a form of bad religion believe me.Embrace your different.Stand out from the crowd.Take time to learn who you need to be.People will try to make you fit their ideal.Be careful.Don’t use the eyes of them who undervalue you.I implore you to follow your dreams and don’t forfeit.Don’t be convinced that they are out of reach.Unlock your potential.Mich,don’t just dream but dare to do.Remeber that God has passed down his confidence to you so don’t let your hope pass away.Keep your eyes focused on Him only.Whenever one door closes in your life,another will open.
There are things I wish I knew when I was your age not too long ago and maybe I would have made some changes if I had the time to sit down and analyze them all but I didn’t. I’m hoping you don’t make that mistake?Does that make sense?Even so you are wise beyond your years.Darling,be kind to yourself and others.It won’t cost you a thing.
Educate yourself first with the knowledge that you know nothing at all.Keep learning,keep growing yourself in the best ways possible.I’m going to tell you to always think twice before you open your mouth to speak.Remember that you can’t take back your words.
I’m not going to tell you what your future holds.You just wait and see everything unfold.Surprises await you at every stage.Always learn from your mistakes.Take responsibility for your actions.Well,for now just make do with what you know.Jump before you can fly.
I have only ever trusted my skin because it is the only thing I know that remains fully unfiltered even when in there is a basement that hides a few boxes of my rage that have left me the darkest of colours:black and grey and secrets that have remained unsaid but inside my own skin anyway they remain tamed.In my own skin there is no spot of shame because I am the guard standing at the gate working all my shifts.I’m in the water,I can freely wade.I’m the captain of my ship.The voyage is in my hands.I wear a badge of honour to serve and protect me.It is etched on my skin.
When I’m in my skin trust is just but a word and it comes at a high price to whomever wishes to run along my tracks.When I’m in my own skin fake love,fake everything cannot make me go numb.It did once.So much so that I couldn’t move and I tried but I was tied down by words that were so transparent and abstract that they happened to attract my vulnerable making me lose the ability to reason on my own.I forgot how to be the master of my own thoughts.Words that sounded true,I ended up losing sight. I got a job.I became an entertainer,a dancer who gyrated to people’s out of key tunes.
When in my skin I wear acceptance like a coat and that is when the seed planted in my kingdom of growth begins to grow like a plant exposed to light after a long time wallowing in the dark and finally being able to photosynthesize. When I’m in my own skin I finally realize how it feels to leave the pack and roam free without having to look back.When I’m dressed in my skin I don’t have to hide inside the closet like the monsters I had formed in my head when I was about ten and they could sometimes live under my bed and mock me by the sounds of my heartbeats and the rhythm of my breathe so loud that even I became scared of myself.
I don’t have to put myself away in my pockets or put me in a box and throw me at sea.I don’t have to bury the real me in the dirt to get devoured by worms and other creatures of the soil who I feel if given the chance they probably would enjoy a delicious meal and courtesy of me..I don’t have to forget but rather always embrace that I’m perfect.In my own skin I will be.I can’t match the level of convenience being thrown at me.It’s high time I showed me some lenient because no matter how I try the real me always surfaces back.Returns like a boomerang and hits me right in the face but only when thrown right.
I can hear the drunkard sing from afar.He has found an audience in the moon and the stars that only form in his mind and the dead of the night only he doesn’t know that I am liking his song from my bedroom window. He is probably headed home after a long night in some bar getting drunk alone or with his friends.He probaly is among the alcoholics trying to drink himself to amnesia to forget about a part of him that might have left.His lonely tune suggests that he was in love and once loved with his whole but never got the same in return.I hear him sing the blues in an unusual grace,maybe he held the devil’s hands and lost his faith along the way.He is simply in search of a saving grace.Maybe he has no one to wrap their arms around him for comfort to keep him from falling so bottle of vodka does the trick.
I wonder if he is just trying to quench his thirst or appease himself or he just can’t afford the house rent and will probably just crawl into a ditch till sunrise.He is in search of healing because he is bleeding but no one is keen enough to notice it.I try but I cannot label him with a diagnosis because his cause for pain is unclear.I can’t see him hence I can’t tell.At 2 am I get to feel his contempt.Maybe alcohol is his safe haven in the middle of his own apocalypse and he hasn’t had a moment to think.He reminds me of an empty page that doesn’t have the privilege to feel the touch of ink.A blank page that has been left clean with not a single word carved in.It’s all empty.The man doesn’t speak for himself.He lets the alcohol do it for him.
If I lived in a house without mirrors I wouldn’t have to look at myself and cringe.I probably would forget how people flinch. If I lived in a house without mirrors I would have my deepest pious feelings freed.The walls wouldn’t listen in,they would leave me be.I wouldn’t worry about letting out my secrets and past sins.If I lived in a house without mirrors I wouldn’t be bothered about being skinny or fat,the outside me.The word “perfect “would make sense it would have more meaning.It would sharpen its way through my spine and leave this miserable “hole”.I would resign from the sad girls club and maybe taking breakfast wouldn’t feel like giving up.
If I lived in a house without mirrors maybe these walls would show me an ounce of respect, they would stop talking back at me at least.Maybe whatever pain is inside of me will suffocate and finally die and not come up like an evil surprise.I wouldn’t have to save it for another day.They say appearances can be deceiving so maybe I wouldn’t have to look at my reflection and see my heart bleeding.I would finally be able to breath underwater and do it for long enough because without mirrors I wouldn’t see me drowning.
If I lived in a house without mirrors it wouldn’t matter whether I’m short or tall or of average height.The view of myself would not be distorted from all the scars caused by this and that leaving the mirror looking like it has been dressed in pathetic cracks.If I lived in a house without mirrors they wouldn’t have to ask how I’m doing because they would be able to tell and I would instantly yell am fine without having to lie because I would be telling the truth with a convinced mind.I would love myself often and put me first on the list everyday not just once in a while.If I lived in a house without mirrors I wouldn’t need to ask whose the fairest of them all because that spot would automatically be filled by me and me alone I guess.My reflection will no longer be upside down.I would love myself for the person I truly am a little bit more each day.
I can’t help but recall all the sweet words that rolled off your tongue like honey and that I drank like a glass of milk.Between all the syllables there lay a secret code that only you and I could decipher.That was then.I wish I could bleed out the reasons why you deserve a second chance but I can’t so you don’t and If I were to ask shamelessly you’ll want.I was bound to you with a tie that we couldn’t break and the feelings we always used to chase but everything has suddenly changed and I don’t know why because we too don’t know how to explain.You made promises that you were never going to keep.Did you have to paint me with wonderful lies that eventually washed away?I know it.It’s my fault because you know it was about that time,you know,when I had made up my mind not to be alone,single had to go,so I took your hand and dragged you along with me for a ride.I made you the one and that I regret because I now fully comprehend the meaning of the word “wait”.Your name came first in my contact list but never did you ask how I was doing.You never called.I would stare at my phone for hours on end waiting for it to ring and I would wait like I always did but I guess you were just too busy for me.
I hate me for being used and I hate you but I still miss you,a part of me can’t stop loving you though I don’t like it at all.I think it’s about time I auctioned you off to my memory box .You have to go. You drove my insides from the tropics to the arctic. I feel my pressure rising and damn my heart is unusually sore. Ours was just but a simple one way track so I wonder why it was so hard for you to love me back.Does the truth hurt?I know it does having learnt from you so I’m not going to lie.I was kind enough to give my all,my honest.Something you never did so I think I deserve a thank you gift at least.The distance between us is large I can tell because each time I look at you I see nothing.I feel nothing.It’s all blank. Tell me why don’t you say anything.Your silence makes me believe every word you are not saying.I should have known that when you said you loved me,you meant worthless.You never meant it.
Its been long since you came around.Don’t take this the wrong way though I don’t want you back.There is alot I need to tell you now that I know this was never meant to be.
Dear pain,I fell for you.You extended your arms like roots and promised you would be there because you found me at a time when I was sick and tired of being sick and tired of being alone.I made up my mind to take you home .I thought you would hold me down because you were the only thing I knew.I had tattooed you on my body,forget the bruises that never bothered me because you walked me through the darkness.The problem is you never made me see the light I so desired but you convinced me you were right for me and that you would stay.
I remained shortlisted as you smothered me with nothing but deceit.Countless of times I tried but couldn’t paint a picture of you.Maybe the colours were to bright for that.You sent many of your lies my way and left through the window with what was mine.You made me get on my knees and pray to God that I walk away before you because you were raising your bars just in time to play me.Thats what you knew how to do best.
I remember being stuck in a desert and you coming to me like an illusion to quench my thirst.Or I thought you did.You offered yourself to me like a ladder wanting me to climb and I blindly did.Dear pain,I looked at you and saw how you wore patience like a tailored suit. The patience you held as you waited for me to slowly crumble.I don’t know if I should ever say thank you for that.I won’t.
Pain you had been faithful to me for so long.It is you that I took like some black coffee everyday and each time I did I realised I couldn’t move. My cold heart let you inside and I was scared for no one ever dared to get close.You went ahead and used me as a garden in planting your seeds.
As time went by the scales came off my eyes and I saw you for what you truly were.I huffed and puffed and just like a house of cards I wished the wind would blow you away sometime.
I met happiness and I skydived on the wings of its love.I couldn’t trust it yet for the damage you caused me was still alive and I thought happiness was just another scam. I took a sneak peek into its soul and that is where I went wrong for I was left dangling on the cliffs of its unconditional glorious love that made me smile each passing day.Happiness just like a volcano erupted in me as it screamed for me to live with it .
I can’t help but remember how you my not so dear pain let me stand at the edge and watched me fall instead of pulling me back.Pain you were nothing more but a cheat.A thief .This time round I don’t see our fingers interlock for chances are you will make me a lost soul in your ocean that is large and deep.
Happiness came to me as a gift beautifully wrapped and had just fallen from the sky.Pain ,you made me experience every part of you and I wonder if it ever hurts you as much as it did to me.
I cheated on you with happiness and I’m not sorry because we are done.I now realise your forever was a cover up for a never.Happiness and I now are the elements that make up an indivisible atom.Happiness has made me a better version of the lass who once wore my skin.The one thin line you left for me has turned into a ray of hope.
Your knife cut me deep but wounds are bound to heal.You gave me the courage to face you instead of pretending you don’t exist. Believe me ,you made me stronger than I thought I could ever be.I won’t be missing your tender touches and kisses so soft on me.Goodbye and remember to carry with you your cold hearted lies.Hopefully you are not just covered up waiting to surface again.It is still no secret you have left a mark on me.
Darkness doesn’t drive out darkness so I have found me a new light that brings forward the right kind of love.
