The Sunday Mail
By Anesu Joanah Lioga
I guess my needless pursuit for acceptance has landed me in a dark hollow hole.
Is my need for companions all that desperate?
I move round and round in circles relentlessly just to receive the remnants of the burnt coal.
We go from the loud stereo chameleon, to the lion whose roar perpetuates self-proclamation and gross disdain for mankind.
My quest for love has been intertwined with my fears that have me blind.
I thought I was content with my solitude, but I realised my space grows bigger and bigger and the echoes of the screeching voices grow to be monotonous at every passing moment.
Each of the voices turn into strangers each and everyday; they become unfamiliar.
They seem to be exposing my weaknesses; I am left vulnerable and fragile
But they never let me live in my adulterous sleep.
I still give all that I have- which is not all that cheap, but it just never seems to be satisfying.
From the dreadful mornings to the dreary traffic,
It is that daunting journey to the lifeless buildings.
I would rather save the honorifics and save the pleasantries to escape from this place;
the chipped walls and the dilapidated ceilings.
I contemplated my dear adulterous sleep!
It scratches every ounce of my being at how none of these memories I wish to keep,
Only but the little moments of laughter which only exist as rarely as crown jewels.
But life seems to have given me this tool for triumph!