Get Out!


So the other day, I sat by this girl in class who couldn’t just stay out of my space! I mean, the space was just enough for a voluptuous chocolate beauty like me;););), now imagine having someone literally breathing all over my face, talking in my ears and spreading food all over my body!


Why can’t people just man their spaces and not get into someone else’s? Why must you keep touching my arm, stroking my hair and twirling the strap of my handbag between your fingers all because you’re so engrossed in whatever you’re saying and you can’t help but ‘touch something’.
Keep your hands to yourself!

Oya, die O!

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For The Child

Syrian child trying to shield his sibling from missiles

To the child unknown,
Whose identity is lost somewhere in the multitude of nations
Even though his name is constantly sung in a tuneless rhythm
To the song of abuse and slavery;

To the child unheard,
Whose cries are muffled by the roar of a thousand pursuits;
The ambition of his father,
The greed of his mother;

To the child unborn,
Whose destiny is yanked away by the suction of the mother who wants him not
Though she, in a moment of fleeting passion, called for him from whence he in peace lay;
And turned her back on him before he could even put a face to his voice;

To the child undaunted,
Who fights his way to the peak,
Resisting every urge to give up
And finally stands tall a champion;

To you child, I write,
Praising your victory,
Comforting your grief,
Recognising your voice,
Saluting your identity.

A girl studying by her roadside groundnut-selling spot

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