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You Left Us

**** You betrayed us The problem is that we confronted you.  In the melee you became a shadow. What changed you,   remains a mystery. One clothed in high culture black swahili saree's.  One hidden in the eventuality of becoming an educated man. One hell of an aftermath when you became,  what you became. Your …

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A Letter to My Bereaved

Dear Deprived This wasn't my ideal way of leaving.  I wanted to be in a glass vase; pink, purple and perhaps flavoured with chunks of silver. More  preferably, lathered with pearls of white all over. Quite expensive right? I also wanted all these people in black to dress in white. At least their hypocrisy would melt down and reflect an ambiance of benignity. So many hypocrites at one function! Oh my dear mother, be quiet please, it was beyond my control. I really wanted to make you proud. Prolly my lifeline. I was protecting you from my demons mah. The day I came late, did you catch a tinge of liquor smell in my breath? Did you? But who’d have thought. I was your pride. Those straight A’s Mama and absolute good behavior.

Mending My Walls

Over the years, I have stretched some loosely hanging dimensions way too far and overwhelmed myself with a feeling of impossibility. A feeling that doesn't escape me for one second. Sometimes when I’m not busy I try to check on it. The ego. The heart. The soul. Whether it  hurts and for quite an iniquitous moment of time, I hold on to my heart and  feel it’s there. The pain hasn't gone away. It has eaten into the cribs of my emotions and dragged with it my hopes and possibilities. Pushed me into a corner.