Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

The first examination I ever failed was my entrance exam into primary 5; I can't remember so many details of how the sun appeared or the color of the moon, Nor do I have any memories of what I was eating that day or the night I was told I had failed, But one thing I never forgot was the dress I wore to the exam- It was my favorite; Pink in so many calm shades, And my pointy way-too-loud "stilletos". I failed the exam, Even as I was supposed to uphold a reputation as a star pupil from Abule-Egba, Lagos. But I couldn't get into primary 5 in Canaanland, Ota. The beautiful view that made me stare in awe, Leaving mouth hanging as we drove through to the reputable school, Was to remain in my dreams. It was pathetic. So the next time I went, I can't remember either what I was wearing. Although I am so sure it had been a plain blouse - I think it was green- and a shabby skirt; definitely plain also. I was probably wearing the same shoes (I nev...

   Forgive me father, For I have sinned These words played in my thoughts for so many seconds after I heard it on Sunday during mass. Minutes later, I started typing with no idea whatsoever how it would play out. Here goes what stared me in the face when I was done: Dancing in utter darkness, As tiny specks of unholy lights bounced over my skin. I twirled, Turned And ripped my garb off, strip after strip. Forgive me father, For I very much knew what I was doing My eyes were filled with smoke from their lit pipes Yet rather than turn away, I let them grip my waist in their free hands As they passed me from the less high to the barely conscious. Forgive me father, For rather than be disgusted I giggled and sometimes I moaned. Forgive me father, For the night went really fast. In leaps and bounds the seconds ticked And I lost count of how many times my back hit a wall Sometimes it was a cushion Most of the other times, they weren't so gentle And hell must have parte...

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...