Posted in poetry

BRUISED

 I let her wound see the fresh air

No tissues or napkins

I may have said something in there

If my intents differ from what you are interpreting

I’m bruised.


I let her wound see the fresh air

A call I negligently made

She turned her back and fled the downstair

To think I got numb and stared

I’m bruised.


I let her blood flow down

She suck up all emotions and spat all at rocks

The boundaries exist now

Now cowardliness escorts my soul, not one I like to talk

I’m bruised because she is

She is, because of me.
©OKOCHA OBED

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Author:

My name is Okocha Obed, you can call me Obeezy. I love to display aesthetics through my ink—I must say writing is my small world. I consider myself a deep writer; I say I am deep because I have discovered that part about myself, even, my fabulous audience share same view. I believe in connecting to all kind of persons as there is always something to learn from everyone. I see myself as an actor; to stay on the stage, I need to think ink. The voice is a reflection of myself and my conscience. I always felt I could be like superman while growing up. It was pretty ridiculous so all I did was dream of being a soldier. It was abortive. So I created a world where I could keep talking about the ills in my community but with other flavours to show I am growing into completeness. keep reading.

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