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Tick, tick, tick
That sound, constant in my head,
A sound that haunts every mind,
A sound that brings fear,
A clock,
Ticking the sekunde of your life away,
Making life shorter and shorter with every tick,
Drawing death nearer and nearer,
But wewe should not live in fear,
For life is too short for such a thing,
Some people waste these precious seconds,
Others treasure them, making sure that no tick is wasted,
The clock ticks on,
But as this sound is registered,
What do wewe do?
Tick, tick, tick
Three zaidi seconds, gone, like that,
Did wewe use them well?
Live life,
For life is too short to spend these sekunde in hell.

His Melody
To quiet the tears
She sings him to sleep
When the morning has dawned
He can’t be roused from a rest so deep

She sings him to sleep
Night after night
And when he does not awaken
Her will to go on grows slight

She sits and waits while he’s away
She remembers his laugh and smile
Oh what a joy to see his joy
She lifts up a prayer “May I see him in a short while?”

She sits at the window and waits
The sun sets slowly behind the kilima
The others say hello but she doesn’t hear
She is waiting to make the tears still

The time has come she cannot wait
She sets out to see her boy
To stop the tears
To bring him joy

But the tears she stills are not his
They fall from her eyes
She sings his lullaby again tonight
As she kisses the stone and her son good bye

Dear record of my misfortune I was correct. Today I walked into class and saw a huge pile of letters on my desk. When I opened them I realized that it was hate mail. It was so stupid, people were getting angry at me for what I did to Jessica when it was her fault! They were saying things like : Die emo bitch, kahaba die, bitchy whore. That last maoni doesn't even apply to me! I haven't even had my first kiss and they are saying this stuff to me! There was one letter that was bot mean even though I don't know who sent it. Inside it alisema roses are red violets are blue I don't now why they hurt you, if wewe want I'll tell them to can it, all because I upendo wewe Janet. I don't know who wrote wewe upendo poem rhyme thing but I upendo wewe too!

Is It True wewe Lie?
Is It True wewe Hate Me?
Is It True wewe Want Him?
Is It True You're My Best Friend?
Is It True wewe Enjoy Hurting Me?
Is It True wewe Like Me Crying?
Is It True wewe Talk Behind My Back?
Is It True wewe Tell People Our Bussiness?
Is It True I Hurt You?
Is It True wewe Back Stabbed Me?
Is It True wewe Let Me Believe The Lies?
Is It True wewe Let Me Call wewe My True Bestfriend When wewe Weren't?
Is It True.....?

This is A Poem Hope Yuh Enjoy It Btw Tell Me What Yuh Think And This Is Just About Me Gettin Hurt After Being Stupid Enough To Believe Her Lies She Wasnt A True Bestfriend

Her eyes were moto red,
as if they were
lit from anger.

I dont understand
why wewe are
mad at me.

Why wewe shoot
those harsh words
at me.

Aimed like bullets,
piercing my soul.
And It cant heal.

I never can dodge them.
The words hit me,
and I fall back.

My Marafiki ask me:
"What's wrong?"
"Can I help?"

But they cant help.
Because I dont understand,
why wewe are mad.

Why do wewe have to do
what wewe do to me?
Why does it give wewe
joy to harm me?
Why?
Why are people bullies?
Why dont my Marafiki take action?
Why cant wewe tell me WHY?

Streetlamps, houses, gates, remotes, books, CDs and televisions. Brothers. Pairs. Each has a twin. In this chaotic place of materials the world has come to be, everything has a brother. But brothers are family. And family is connected somehow; if not kwa blood, then kwa what?

Energy.

Look hard. At everything that has a brother. A line of energy casts a connection between the two. The energy, with its harsh glares and cold looks creates the strongest and most complex bonds. Strong because of their brotherhood. Complex because of its invisibility. For there is power in invisibility. Cold, cruel power. The power to be a persecutor with no chance of being a victim. The power to twist and squeeze but not feel the wrenching pain of your twists.

Now, wewe ask, what is left? Cruel, invisible energy. For a cruel, invisible world.







This is my first time uandishi in stream of consciousness. I know it's short but don't judge me too harshly.