Eventually, everything falls in place or it doesn’t. It gets messy or neat, people take a leave, and sometimes along the way they die too soon. Sometimes it’s good, others it’s bad and it’s at times blessings embodied in suffering. Vibes die, people grow, distance grows and it can sometimes be forever. But talent never dies,it never stops, it can take a pause but it can just never die.
We play too much, pride sinks too deep, mockery becomes a meal and in between, we lose each other and forget that one day it will be permanent departures.
Well, I hope when my time is ripe someone will one day come to track my path, write down from where I left the page, sigh and say,” she was magic.” That’s a wish too many don’t last to witness, too bad.
One last time I’ll smear ink on paper and this time the pen won’t bleed, there’s no pain in it, no happiness though, just a numb miserable feeling churned by bitterness mixed with strength.
Too strong that breaking free means crawling to the caves for redemption, because vulnerability makes us human and when you lose yours you try to find it back but if you don’t then you’re existence becomes miserable.
One last time, to you my loyal friend who believed in me when my strength died in doubt when I wallowed in questions born by my brain to pin me down. Thank you so much.
My way with words has always been Orthodox. But I played too well I didn’t know when to stop the games I played my life in it too and died a million deaths every night and got up more numb than I was, going to sleep.
One last time, I pen my nudity in ways the mirror can’t reflect. One last time…