2025

A deep fault line appeared, A crack running through the heart of our home. Day by day, I saw it widen. The unspoken words, scattered

Every day in my home, A new face would show, Hand in hand with my mother, They’d walk down the hall, and go. I’d wonder,

I suppose I am a bit of a porcupine; I am made of sharp edges, I am not the genteel damsel people assume; Venom is

They told me heaven took you home, But left no map to where you’d gone. The echoes of your voice remained, The way you laughed,

A boy who stole Garri to quench his pain, Met the wrath of sticks and flame. Mobbed, maimed and left to die, While cheers rose

Looking at the world, She felt that it was too sympathetic. It kept pitying her She did not like it, though. She only longed for

His arms were meant to be my comfort, Yet they felt cold, unkind, untrue. Never had I felt so unlucky, Haunted by a pain that

I do not remember who I was before the anxiety, I have spent many years digging for it’s genesis; Is it from the burden of

He’s asleep now, finally. I’ve been sitting here for hours, watching him. His face is still puffy, A faint bruise blooming on his arm. My

The laughter of a close friend, Fades into a silent refrain, The younger and tender years, Got well acquainted to pain, Dreams shadowed by loss