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  • ___kc___ 4w

    Leave.

    When the writing on the wall are marks of blood,
    when you incessantly look for the right reasons,
    keeping faith in a contest long lost.

    You think you stand firmly on happily ever after floors..
    whereas you are barely hanging on to a cliff on it's suburbs.
    you need to take a bold step out of that ring.
    you need to look toxicity in the face and say ''you win".
    wait for the third count or tap out.
    throw in the towel but be proud.
    say a heart-crushing goodbye but with a blink.
    crawl out subtly till you're free;
    just as the bird.

    It's time to turn your back to the disease.
    cop out on the scurrilous love ship.
    and at the very first sight of peace, run as fast as u can towards her embrace.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 6w

    'Leave' is an insightful and encouraging piece I came up with amidst the prevalence of a disturbingly underrated issue, the growing rate of physical assault amidst other toxicities within the umbrella of an absurd connection most tag 'love'.

    Stop the tolerance count, corpse won't live to love, and you're not an animal. Even dogs are cared for.

    There is no 2nd option. Leave.
    ...........

  • ___kc___ 6w

    Leave.

    When the writing on the wall are marks of blood,
    when you incessantly look for the right reasons,
    keeping faith in a contest long lost.

    You think you stand firmly on happily ever after floors..
    whereas you are barely hanging on to a cliff on it's suburbs.
    you need to take a bold step out of that ring.
    you need to look toxicity in the face and say ''you win".
    wait for the third count or tap out.
    throw in the towel but be proud.
    say a heart-crushing goodbye but with a blink.
    crawl out subtly till you're free;
    just as the bird.

    It's time to turn your back to the disease.
    cop out on the scurrilous relationship.
    and at the very first sight of peace, run as fast as u can towards her embrace.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 13w

    Let this be remembered

    Let it be remembered that we stood up in unity and with pride.
    Let it be remembered that we asked for what was right.
    Let it be remembered that we became sick of their havoc.
    Let it be known that we raised our banners as one.
    Let it be known that they feared our voices and saw them as weapons.
    Let it be known that they are nothing but blood draining demons.

    Let this be remembered,
    We mopped our blood with our hands,
    We tied our wounds with our flag.

    We are strangers in our own land; let this be known.



    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 16w

    60 for nothing.

    I'm just a bee,
    as decent and pretty as could be.

    'Delightfully buzzing in a honeycomb'
    is simply my perfect little dream.
    I've been made to feel distant from home,
    to be by myself at the cusp of a creek
    where I hum with a withered chitin,
    and twitch in misery with my wings clipped.

    I'm only a weary bird,
    far from my pleasant atmosphere.
    I've been made to tread a dreaded soil,
    and use my claws to scratch my boils.

    I live like a stranger,
    yet my knees are forced to bend,
    to the ones that promised me home,
    but can't give it.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 19w

    My mind is compressing, Baby.
    I guess being an introvert ain't easy.
    I want you more than a good tea needs coffee.
    Nonetheless, I discover this claustrophobic part of me when you get close.
    My world knows and sees
    I mean, how psychic I've been.
    I'll try to make a mountain out of a mole hill to plead not guilty to this feeling.
    Meanwhile, It is evident how badly I want to express it using a thesaurus.

    Forgive me for time spent having a cold feet,
    For the overly awkward moments born and bred by silence.
    Really would have said something about the castle you live at in my head.
    But the words won't fall off.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 30w

    You've tried running,
    You've tried hiding,
    Why not try standing,
    Why not try fighting.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 30w

    To the one my heart dreams of.
    To the one I hope could be more.

    I'm crazy not for the fact that I am, but because you make me.
    I'm dying not for the fact that I am, but because you fail to see.
    I'm sick not for the fact that I am, but because you don't know.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 31w

    You are your best critic.

    I fight with my mind most times, and trust me it does mess with my psyche.
    I desperately want it to be this way, and because of that I really don't care about what's best.
    Concurrently, I take a considerable look at things and I want the best to come out of whatever I set my mind to, hence, the conflict.

    I've heard someone say, 'you can't always be right'. Apparently I have also been told one too many times to follow my mind', but the wide gap still to be bridged is the fact that what lies in one's mind may be or may not be the right way to go or the appropriate thing to do.

    When a decision is ideal, more often than not, you would get the memo, a part of you gives the hint.
    As humans, it's only natural to have our preferred way of doing things, but the aim common to us all is achieving a result deemed perfect.

    It's sensibly okay to take advice from people whose judgement you know you can trust. How to go about this and how to go about that. The thing with opinions is it either presents you a stronger conviction on what had already crossed your mind to be right, or it further creates a conundrum. Eventually, you'd probably end up making a choice based on what will seem better or easy. I believe you know within you what's best. You should be your own critic.

    ©kelechichijioke

  • ___kc___ 32w

    ....
    ....
    Hey, creamy fellow.
    Sorry, pretty tornado.
    What sand did your maker incorporate.
    You must be an artifact of sun rays,
    Or maybe a fruit of bloomy days.

    Who made this you.
    He must have been jealous of his final touch.
    He must have meddled with clay from a unique pot.
    Every point made to dazzling perfection.

    ©kelechichijioke