Please join me as
I undress the diary of my dreams
Unhooking the buttons that shields
It from your rear view.
On page one,
my tears filled the half page
Splashing into the second page
And shattering the third page.
On the fourth Page,
Are comforting words
Spewing from the mouth
Of my helpless mother
With her tongue dancing
Like Micheal Jackson
And dangling unclad with rage.
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On the Fifth page,
Are painted portrait of my fears
Soaked in the colour of my wears
A portrait that is a coward
A portrait that suffered defeat
In the mighty hands of my Pen and Dreams.
Etched on the Sixth page
Are the scribblings of my
With the hope that I will
“Blow” like “Chinua Achebe”
Where my books will be Multi-lingual
And I can wear the crown of a sage.
On the last page
Are promises I wrote
To wield swords for the broken souls
With the hope for tomorrow
Piercing out the intestine of failures in cage.
I am on the thresholds of my dreams
What if Chimamanda was your mother, what will happen ?
find out here