POSTED 04/15/2018 15:55:30
I do not know how minds are carved trying to free themselves from bondage and vintages. Some minds drew verses like water and blood. But you started your own mess and foolishness loading up self. You journeyed without thinking of what life could offer. You forgot that offering is from the hood of twisted face. Try to find yourself in the tangle of life and death brought to you by chance and time. But you called it road of recovery.
Your flaws and mistakes. You called them dreams and freaking love adding everything that happened in your life. You thought you could add your shadows to form a whole firm of you but you failed yourself. You are a writer creating chantment and nullifying nightmare before clouds and shrines that your forebearers made frozen in the bosom of their yesterday.
I was your godmother, I was your godfather and I was that boy that solved your problems before you were hurled into nightmare. Remember, remember the tap of water that ran through opinions of men that have spirits and souls triumphing in a million times. Heaven knows I didn't see you in my dream when we were younger than the air. We grew closer to the wind and window of opportunity. We gutted down the moon and the sun and the stars along time and cloud. When writers wrote about you, they wrote of dust and ashes and freedom. We roamed yesterday in the room of emptiness and emotions.
Remember, I was that child of yours that seek for you in the dead of the night. Remember, I was your muse and power and strength and gut. How come you abandoned me in the street? How come you made me thought of losing you? How come you never looked my side in the noon but only in the night? How come Chimamanda didn't write about your grievances and sorrow after Kambilinudo? I know your name and your family!
My daughter, listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat and learn. Bread is equal to beans and butter. Stew that made the taste of white rice came out is not foolish but he did that to let mouth know it existence also. I tried to make you see reasons to live. I cried for you to live. I huddled and struggled and laughed for you to be heard. My echoes confused many. My laughter pushed many into fire. You made the monster in me.
They thought I was the one but, it wasn't me. The sweat of soldiers are troubles and wroth and blood dripping on the ground for war and chaos. You thought I didn't know you came. Hear my spoken words from the heart beat of a child trying to learn how to talk. I am your learning ground. You thought you've killed me! You thought I was the game you buried behind your heart. You thought I was the muse you abandoned with your abusive shadow. No. I was not among your ambitions. Try to understand me, little girl. I wrote this thought from the abstract of my childhood remedies. The tempest of your bodies are darker than the soul of a poet. You thought you had it all in your obsession but your temperament is golden and corral. But wait, I have something to tell you: Your soul is weak and fearful. Your legs are no more forests of deeds because you dart that when you left.
I am leaving now, but not from your present situations and circumstances or plight. I will make willing a vessel of beast and beauty before your girdle temple. Between the nostril of your absence. Learn to spell curse and current and mood. Learn to mold your thought together because they possess life and death. Learn to possess yourself and guide the chest of your interest among human's knight. I am not a fool for a suffocating morning. But I will leave a memory to your heart when trying to make a positive complete host. You are a work over and you never think of becoming more serious with your life but I will not leave until unruly sunshine smile on you.
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