NAIJA BLOG

  This is the season to mourn, As the leaves fall among the dusty streets  And children’s noses are filled with snot and At night their tiny chests wrack with cough This is the time to cry, the days so sad and short The nights so sad and short And memories that have not been buried resurrect to torment The pain-filled souls This is the time to stare  The two-thousand-yard stare into the abyss called the future Bleak and filled with horrors And pray to the ever-silent God  Who mocks? Cries? Or delights at our plight  

  You were my light and I grasped you Afraid of the darkness that you would bring You were the joy that would herald the sadness that Would outlast the happiness My pleasure and pain The pleasure of the times fade dread and angst replaces  This dream, forsaken I was already ready for the pain to come Pain destined to make my heart its home The signs never lie, instinct or fear? I can never tell. But I know it weighs heavy on my soul, And the tears remain unshed and the thoughts stab in me in moments of quiet And my hands are anxious and touch the buttons that bring me happiness Alas, my happiness is still a myth, still is, and will be  Pain makes me its own so I eat with sorrow  My own. I must love my fate