I remember the songs now. Halfway. The one we chant late into the night. It meant anything to me now But It catches my fancy today. And it somehow spreads a thin line of an awkward smile across my sullen cheeks. I have had enough to deal with inwardly that the chorus seeped through my mind and somehow want to sting my eyes.

No, I did actually got stung. I flutter my eyelids begging them not to spill because this my present façade of a being; against the one that wrestles inside will shatter the isolation of thoughts to anyone who comes asking what is wrong. They seem to have merge, finding a compromise to tell me hey girl, it is that bad you can no longer cheer and everyone will note it because you are not very good at hiding.

I was at the edge of running mad in water. I said to myself just before I penned this down.

Leave. Go outside and rage. Facing the toilet mirror and pour it all out.

A bolt was coming, I saw it coming but somehow I had fought it and stood my ground.

Okay, tell in Father’s house maybe this time he would hear ‘Father, no God, I am very angry with you.

They said call on Jesus but my lips parted, only my heart rang out.

Church used to mean a lot to me back then, I found peace, away from the noisy bang of unfulfilled dreams. Because I could raise my hands in the air and sing wildly like someone wild. My motivation for travelling long distances away from school to get to church was because of this peace. Because with it, I became human again and I cared. With it, I didn’t have to bone so much.

 

And what is it now? A regular place where the mind drifts occasionally and questions the authenticity of the testimonies shared. Wondering if you have been excluded from the fair share of the glorious cake. But once a while, the melody from the white tapping and perhaps, the calm voice devoid of ‘sin’ draws you back to shed awesome tears at the wonders of life.

Notwithstanding, at the close you will face the demons again. And people will not know because they say seeing is believing but that used to be a very long time ago.

And when on sunken days, when on days your bones crack from standing on for too long, attending to all sorts yet earning the just just. You want to rest your head and church bells is a fade sound ringing afar. After all, the mind will drift and the white tapping will draw you back. Or perhaps on lucky days when a ray of light spreads across your forehead, you will play with every one else.

But this day is the same as two a week before. And when today rose, someone and somebody said something else.

‘You don’t know the story’

Of how everything I touched becomes a ruin even at the edge of a supposed breakthrough.

Every time I have to struggle. And I am tired of resting on snorting shoulders. I am tired of the hurt over and over. In tiny little specks, giant mighty logs. Or maybe I am not just good after all.

Tell the demons to let me be, it is enough. I have paid for the sins I didn’t commit. And since I bend my kneels in prayer saying abba father, tapping stomachs, weak limbs and sore eyes. He has turned his back.

Or maybe with just another ting of rainbow rays, the leftover I always seem to hold on to will save me yet again.

I keep hearing the same echoes, promises of it will be better. I have been waiting along the junction that leads to better land, catching glimpse, dreaming wishes, hoping soon, just a bicycle at least will give me ride. For I cannot get there of my own accord alone.

And who said time heals everything? It catches up fast and snatches you from your own life. I do not know what to believe about time. Right now, this is what I am saying and that is all I know. Let the healing come else the wounds will forever ooze. I am tired of repeating myself and being in constant clutters, raising a staccato of questions, why and when.

I know I am not the only one but this is me saying how peculiar this phase has been.

Be strong, a cliché buzzing in my ears soon to fade off. I can no longer be.

Suck it all up. Suck it all up. Hahaha Oh boy, ya know I try.

My shoes were once tied, loosed a little and tied. Tied and loosed. It is slipping away completely loosed and my hands are shaking trying to buckle ‘em shoes. Maybe, just maybe this one last buckle will end it all or not. I am too tired to believe.

Let this snaps pass over me.

I am buried in a water fountain and my head is beginning to spin. And for the first time since the decades of turmoil, I mumbled ‘Lord take my life and let me be’ I cannot move an inch for courage is soaked in tears and too blurred to lift a hand. Tired, angry and very tired.

I must now go and get drunk in wine. Then afterwards try and buckle my shoe.

 

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