The leaves on the trees are patched up
In the heart of the woods, my Soul is buried
Because the birds that croak
Pushes frogs to the walls of inferiority.
Everyone is quiet except my talking self which
Pounds against a cage of bent ribs.
Lifeless leaves leave the coziness of their roots
For the uncertainty of the tip of my cape,
We’ll be in this axis together forever dear refugees.
My emotions were sacked during the stampede,
They were to create rooms for sane minds
In the potholes of safe grounds.
And wring me for a pint of strength,
You shall find not a drop,
They now run in the veins of faceless shadows.
Like newly molded pots we are empty,
Our lids are in the making but they need not be used.
Our shadows now speak for us,
Our pages now speak what the blank heart orders,
They whisper darkness against the wills of my Soul.
Dear Soul speak.
Here springs your chance to blank off the tunnel they steal into.
How do they dare?!
Speak for us dear Soul,
Say we don’t deserve to be miserable.
This noise of whispers and buzzes; taunt and tease
Will not only blank off your eardrums
But your heart, mind, and psyche.
You decide our place,
I am that heart in you and I’ve been loyal through the storms.
Why do you seek to repay my loyalty with feigned weakness?
You are not blank, dumb or numb.
Save me this time too.
Akinbola (K)Hadijat ©2019