Victorian London Road.
They sit in silence, their heads hung low
As the people walk, making a nasty row
Yelling at them calling them ugly toads
Taking their money and spilling it on the road
They asked for nothing, just someone to behold
And house their bodies, empty as they were broke
To feed their stomachs, and buy them nice clothes
Dirty-looking, torn clothing, they sit on the road
A group of children, all pale and skinny-boned
Rejected by their parents, now living on their own
Begging for alms, from the rich and snobby folks
That walks confidently in their million-dollar robes on this same road
Three to seven orphans, all crowded in a row
Lighting newspapers for fire, clearly cold
They shiver in the snow, dreaming of home
And new opportunities on this dusty Victorian London road.
Her.
Crows caw silently, through the dimly lit windows in the hall
I'm sitting in a crossed-legged position; my back is to the wall
My hands are legs bleed profusely as I strain my voice to call
For help to come and break the door that led me to my fall
Breathing hoarsely, still alive, I try to recollect
The memories I have of those that praised my intellect
I live in fear of all of them that told me to reflect
Upon my mistakes in the past that I try so hard to deflect
She stands alone in the burning abyss, bleeding to her knees
I call her name, she doesn't answer, but I can hear her weep
About the people that she lost; the ones who couldn't see
Her internal pain; she's running insane; and then she looks at me
I hear her breathing a little too loudly; a sight too scary to see
She walks forward; taking her time; as she trudges up to me
The flames are burning; the boards are creaking; as she creeps slowly
Suddenly the floor gives way and she falls into the sea
I watch her as she drowns in water; holding on to her regrets
Too selfish to just let them go; and still remains depressed
I lay back down and wake up in bed; unexplainably stressed
About the vision I just witnessed
About the girl that was obsessed
With being sad and lonely; never smiling once
She kept her sorrow within herself; not sharing with anyone
She died in water; her weight too heavy for one
To carry through this life for years; thinking that it's fun
To remain depressed and uncontrollably stressed
About the trauma she hoards
Now this is a lesson to all who smile but secretly are filled with sorrow
Find someone trustworthy to talk to you so you might survive tomorrow
For our Heavenly Father says in His Word, "I will take away your sorrow
And fill you with My Spirit so you are never hollow."
Fantasies.
I have a circus in my head that makes me want to scream
I see a ringleader who tells me what I want to be
I have a voice inside my head that makes me want to bleed
I have a friend who keeps telling me that I should just be me
I have a criminal attraction to these false beliefs
I have a tendency to sin and always listening
I have a strange desire to eat less and barely sleep
I own a dirty journal where I write my memories
I'm obsessed when I get uncontrollably depressed
I'm depressed when I'm exposed to uncontrollable stress
I'm stressed when I hear life-questioning threats
I have threats that I've given to all my regrets
I try to piece back together my already fractured life
Try to be the person they want and indirectly spite
Try to live up to expectations; even though they're too high
I need to be happy; I can't keep living this life.
Social Tendencies II.
People swarm in and out with their faces in screens
Not casting a glance; too obsessed with the memes
That drop on Instagram and whatever media app
It takes their attention away with a snap
I live in this sea of endless laughing and texting
Where people spend all their time commenting instead of resting
About all the selfies that pop up in the morning
You know what I did last night? I had to deal with your snoring
I'm not saying that I'm not also addicted to it
The dim lights of the phones that make the night look lit
But I hate avoidance, when you shove me away
While talking to your friend in London for the whole day
You spend your time training those long, nimble fingers
To comment kissy-face emojis on pics of your favorite singers
You call it showing support; I call it revolting
Looks like this endless cycle is never halting
I feel so misplaced; it's actually frightening
Maybe I'll get an iPhone: You know, to counter the sound of the typing.
Social Tendencies.
You say that I'm pretty, I've heard it all before
Your two intercrossed fingers; "How vile and impure!"
You tell me I'm funny; laughter's the cure
But it's not a joke when you're insecure
About what people say about your character
Judging you fatally like well-dressed barristers
It's hard to feel wanted, they make it seem impossible
To climb the social ladder, when that is very possible
Because the ladder is an illusion; a careful way of deception
To capture the self-haters and change their perception
And make them feel guilty for not wanting directions
From the rich and the popular on their strong inception
Manipulating personality at a level so unattainable
That the laws of the world find its so agreeable
To use us as objects; "Why, this is unbelievable!"
They've trapped us in too deep
But our rebellion is inevitable.
Him.
There's a boy in the mirror with doe for eyes
A smile so bright it forms the skies
He looks at me cheerfully and what a surprise:-
It's me when I show my true nature outside
He's successful in missions, a mentor to many
Head full of dreams; I barely have any
With millions of friends; his love is a-plenty
But I can't help but I feel like he's not ready
For the world outside, which is anything but safe
He's safer inside me, where no one can take
His dreams and his hopes away from his brain
And put him on a path that will lead him astray
No, he's better forgotten, laid in the ground
Next to my self-hatred and the thoughts all around
Deep in my heart; away from the sounds
Of the angry people;
They've come for another round.
Exhausted.
I'm tired
Tired of the things I could do so well
Tired of the things that made me happy, that made me swell
Tired of the issues that people bring every time they text
"You're in a crisis? Get a therapist, I hear they're the best!"
For these type of situations that you constantly bring to me
And waste my time with; look, I'm trying to be well
But you're making me sick with your false reactions and immature words
You don't understand honesty? Let me put it in words
I'm tired of criticism that's not constructive
I'm tired of comments that are so destructive
I'm exhausted when people say they'll be more honest
But the next day they sin like they're not even modest
I'm tired of having to wake up everyday to your comments
And wonder if I did wrong when I called you out
For the fake friend you are
I've had enough of your troubles and unnecessary issues
Leave me alone, and get out of my room
I'm trying to sleep.
What I Miss.
I miss some things that can't come back
The love, pain and sorrow that sometimes made me lack
The skills I needed to complete my task
On this planet full of people; either good or bad
I miss waking up to delicious cakes and heart-warming kisses
From my mother and father, my best wishes
When I could barely walk, oh how I miss it
Being in a cot, dreaming of fishes
I miss writing songs and singing them inside
My dimly-lit bedroom, where I could hide
From the dishonest people and the critics outside
That won't stop till they crush your miserable life
I miss going to the village and hugging my grandfather
The only God-devoted man beyond and farther
Who taught me how to connect with people and never be a bother
Now he's in a better place and I can't help but break altogether
When I hear his name I reconsider
"This man...this man fathered my mother."
Seasons.
Seasons are periods; God's precious gifts
To the sad and the lonely; to lighten their spirits
To the angry and the sensitive; to broaden their feelings
And to the simple and the loving; to replenish their wits
Autumn comes first; its beauty unmatched
Its red and orange leaves fall as they easily detach
From the dry black branches that once held them firm
September to October, let the ember burn
Winter comes second, the snowy blizzard
That traps us in spells, just like a wizard
Harmattan breeze, that blows and withers
The warm soft skin of the September winners
Spring follows after; bright and cheerful
The birds singing in their trees make me so fearful
Flowers blooming beautifully, making it bear-through
Only three months, I hope it's the near truth
Summer is here; party and fun all day long
Lighting bonfires and singing uplifting songs
Sharing our hopes and dreams to you all
A greeting from the Etini-Eyos; a greeting to all.