Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

I've tried so hard to stay conscious but have no control over my thoughts; They pull me to depths I never knew existed in my head. It gets so hard to catch my breath when I find myself so deep in and I get lost over again. I think I blacked out a couple of times; some of which you sat by my side. You asked me what was wrong once and I told you I was tired; Indeed, I was choking on my own breath that second. You told me everyone was tired, and you believed I was strong enough to get my shit together. I was gagged, bound and possessed; how was I supposed to rein myself in? Sometimes ago, I saw a post on the gram about speaking to God. When people fail to listen, God listens, they promised. And so I spoke to God; I spoke to the big deity up there and waited to hear him say something to me. They didn’t tell me that he never did speak back to the possessed ones My poorly formed words bouncing off high end walls and ripping through my soul I wept and screamed every midni...

These embers upon my skin scorch. As I raise my eyes to the distant clouds, Watching the sun tip into the ranging depth, Taking every fragment of my life alongside. I recall his face perfectly from noon today; He’d worn a stoic smile, And asked me to breathe. “Just take slow deep breaths.” He’d so calmly said. And following his cue I did just that, What were the odds? The worse off chance was that I was wrong, But I never was. I have always survived. I survived an absent father, Who all but hated me, For being the product of a loveless affair, With a psychotic promiscuous lady, Who my luckless childhood had to term mother. But I survived, didn’t I? So why would this man with a lisp scare me to death? My trembling hands held gingerly onto this hope; One that crashed when he read out my file. Shattering my shimmering future before my eyes. As he uttered those three words, Sucking the life out of me in a slow whiff. “You have cancer.” It was my lungs af...

I saw her again last night at the vigil; She’s just another spinster in the congregation. That’s what we all see, But something makes us all stare longer at her: Would it be her gait that strikes us peculiar? Cos I’m so sure it’s a whole lot odd. Probably because her feet are not those of a swan; For they fail to lift gracefully. She’s not pretty, you know; Her cheeks are quite sunken, And her cheekbones are an embarrassment to the conventional beauty they ought radiate. She can’t afford new cloths, So she wears her branded tee shirts with uncomfortably large skirts; Wrapping her legs in and sweeping almost noisily, Her traditional dresses fall off her shoulders, And this is in no way attractive. As her skin is all wrinkled over her collarbone; Her face gives her the appearance of a woman scorned in abject poverty, Fifteen years older below her eyes than she is. She places a pair of red rimmed plastic “prescription glasses” over the bridge of her nose And swears...

Ireti woke up with a start in the middle of the hardly silent night, sitting up on the makeshift bed they had created out of the only sofa in the one room apartment she lived in with her family. She looked around her and picked up her phone to check if it was near morning. The small screen of the TECNO “torchlight phone” brightened up and displayed 1:08. It was barely past midnight yet she couldn’t bring herself to sleep. Her feet swept on to the concrete floor covered in a patched up green carpet. The floor was a bit too warm as a result of the heat burnt out by the half a dozen of occupants in the room. She turned to her side, her eyes meeting the closed ones of her sister with whom she shared the sofa. There wasn’t electricity supply so the army of mosquitoes had arrived the room, whizzing in in their numbers from the uncovered overflowing gutters that passed just below their window. Knowing she couldn’t risk stepping around her younger siblings who were deep...

Sia Furler is probably the most constant topper on my playlist with her lovely lyrics and soothing voice. I simply love her and writing this is probably the closest I could ever get to an appreciation. Dear Sia, 'Tis  can't sum my words for how I feel, Yet I'll dip my quill in ink, and Make a frail attempt at an appraisal, In all hope you ever find this and; Feel the depth beneath these stark letters. I hope these words float through your soul, When you gaze at them, As my ink hence splatters over this sheet. For being the perfect music icon, Twirling lyrics into art with beauty like never before; The loveliest voice on the planet, I thank you. I can't recall the first lyrics i heard off of your lips, But I did listen to Titanium; Richochet... Then I found my elastic heart, Every tune from your lips threatening to rip it apart, So great it was, That I stuck on till I knew it by heart. Next came Chandelier,and even though, I was not...

It ended up a "bit' longer than I intended, but I couldn't bring myself to leave any part out. Old piece though, really old.... "Pleasure him, Be the better animal and k eep him company." 'Tis had been your first commandment. You were the result of  an afterthought; Second choice a s always will thence be, Mama. You filled the most distinct of gaps, Coming forth from a fragile rib, Yet wielding strength like none other. The company of you bringing wisdom, For he did better naming hippos. The entire essence of creation, Edging on a stray-away in your absentia. You had be there to g ive him the push, You, Mama; You lit him to life. Mama, you undermined perfection, Language fails in your description, Beauty hardly begins to define your lustre. You put him to an edge by your intelligence, Your smart suggestions m ade him find his limits, And your gentle touch was everything. Mama, You’d been the mother earth had craved; And so he...

 It's been ages since I've written this. I guess it's high time I put it up for view. Vulnerable The sunny day swaths away Twilight beckons on me All day I have waited for this hour When my courage will be thence tested My bosom tugs from within And I ask myself, "Have I really gained enough courage still...?" Then that voice in my head whispers to me Pushing me forward as always Smiling to myself, I make up my mind If I wish to stop being addressed as a poor lass I must rise to the call and prove myself of age I must prove myself different I haul a scarf over my head and slip into my sandals Sweeping out of what has always been my cove I step into the cold dark Stillness befalls around me I shudder at the icy breeze But I move on and on Further and further  Still deeper within. Everything seems too calm I however scoff at recollection of the scary tales told at twilight Only dumb maidens shudder at such tales And now I...