BY GLORIA O’KOYE
Everyday
This four-corner room has imaginations running untamed
Every nerve is agitated,
Scratching the scabs
Trying to soothe this hungry itch
Triggers charging every angle and directions
Trying to piece together on the go
Since pride refuses to seek help
Even though at any moment
There’s higher risk to explode
(Sanity has been running low)
Generations before
Showed a tradition
Of keeping within self,
Should be something
To be unlearned,
Something that won’t hurt to let go
Baskets full of stones
When it should’ve been flowers,
Carrying weight from families before
Trapped in a vicious cycle,
Trapped in a never-ending game
Must clear out exterior shells
Clumped in residue,
From collective layers from the past
For a healthier regeneration
Trapped for too long
Shouldn’t be treated like a permanent.
Long lasting damages
If it’s left untreated
Should be seen like a cicada
Where metamorphosis is occurring
Break free when it’s time,
To mark a world shattering statement
Affirmation to heal Trapped thoughts
It’s progress in the making
But there has to be a beginning
