They say talking to yourself is a sign of madness,
but I don’t feel mad—just lost,
swallowed whole by helplessness.
The reason I speak to myself
is because there’s no one else to hear me.
I trust no one but me,
and maybe that’s the cruel irony—
I’m the only one I can rely on,
even when I’m drowning in my own thoughts.
......
Le soleil n’est plus lumineux,
Plus ce que j’espérais revoir.
La lune brille plus que jamais,
Dans sa lumière, je trouve mon espoir.
Mon cœur semble ne plus battre,
Mais mon amour, toi seul peux me ressusciter.
nothing could be the same ever again!
problems are like popups!
every other day, we're caught up!
i think of
bringing back things in to track !
but helplessly i am shattered everyday!
today i am standing on a path where
the demons are screaming in pain!
terrific is the fact that things will not change for good!
worse it will now be for sure!
......
They say, "Life is always unfair,"
A truth so harsh, it’s hard to bear.
But never did I think it would go this far,
That life’s unfairness would leave me scarred.
I once believed, with all my heart,
That sharing pain would heal the part,
Of me that hurt, the part that bled,
That someone’s love could calm my head.
......
I feel like I’m in a boat, adrift,
Sailing away, my heart to lift—
From an island I built with my own hands,
Stone by stone, like shifting sands.
I spent long days, months, and years,
Building it up, through hope and tears.
But now, I see it fade from view,
As my boat drifts farther, out of blue.
......
The sky is clear now! I thought.
Oh again, this storm,
Destroying my cottage warm.
Building blocks, falling down,
It's all clattered on the floor,
Bringing back my memories sore.
Recalling the time building these took,
With the blocks, I'm falling too.
......
Dear Honoured child of the land,
Of the great hills, terrances beauty
A gentle chill that kisses Kigezi,
Its me a nephew, calling out
an cold ice voice,
Hoping to reach you by.
Back home, we were raised
To point fingers at the Television
And scream " Uncle Shaka "
......
Maybe this is just a cycle, spinning endlessly,
Waking up to a sweet “good morning” text,
Only to feel the bittersweetness creeping in,
A fleeting joy, then the ache of knowing it will end.
Faces blur, all smiles and whispered hopes,
Words like promises, but none built to last.
I speak in charms, soft words and sweet replies,
Yet I know, deep down, most of them won't see me for who I am.
......
You know what, Sherlock?
Love? That’s pathetic
His arms were drenched in her cologne,
the other day,
the smile so nefarious,
conniving yet innocent.
I gave him my heart, you know?
I gave him elusive veins and Sherlock,
what do I get? I am deceived,
as though my eyes are blinded
......
Sometimes I wonder, what makes the heart so cruel,
When forgiveness blooms in the soil of a soul’s duel.
If I, broken and bent, can rise from the wreck,
Can bury the ghosts, and silence the wrecked,
Why can’t they let go, leave me in peace,
And allow me the breath of a soft release?
I don’t ask for riches, or a word of praise,
Not even a promise, not even a gaze.
Though they tore from me every spark, every light,
......