Are We Family ?

Yes, we are family,
but I don’t feel included.
I was never part of those memories—
just standing there like an iroko tree.
But even an iroko tree gets noticed, admired…
maybe I am invisible.

Yes, we are family.
Why do I yearn to be among?
Why did you include me
when you never intended
to make me feel like I belonged?

My wound is deep as an anthill.
I stare. I crave. I taste.
Yet still, I’m never quite perfect enough
to be added.

Now I feel empty—
this fear with no reason,
these unstable emotions.
I’ve cried, but there’s nothing left to shed.

I wished for a happy family,
but I was given out.
I was myself—
you called it pretense.
I tried to act how you wanted—
you called it my real self.
I smirked.
Nothing could please you.

I came, invited,
to this new family…
but are we family?

I feel used—
just because you helped me.
Voicing out is meaningless.
My ideas don’t count.
You see me as dull, not smart,
never knowing me at all.

But I am strong.
Strong enough not to give up.
Strong enough to hope.

A hope to be isolated.
A hope to rebuild myself.
A hope to be spiritually enlightened.
A hope to be happy.

Have you ever felt this?
It’s painful—
like salt poured on a wound.
Have you ever stood among
a family you craved,
yet asked, trembling:
Are we family?

Lost Child of the Stars*


I feel lost in the galaxy of stars,  
everything shining like an illusion of void.  
I don’t even know who I am  
or what my purpose is.  

I was given a job—a job by God—  
but ny denial I nurtured, nurtured still to growth.  
Drunk with pleasure, relaxation, lust of the world,  
forgetting the job, the purpose meant to guide my path.  

I felt worthless and lost,  
I felt  loss of the world around me.  
Desire filled up my soul.  
Something wants to change inside of me—  
but I keep battling it:  
What if it escapes? Will my virtue leave me?

The more I search for myself,  
the farther away it goes.  
I’m just a child—a child  
who couldn’t even decide for herself.  

A child kept shut for defending herself,  
now lost to the world.  
It controls every day of her soul.  
Her desire cries in tears,  
blood rolling out of her eyes—  
but staring  into those eyes  
was a nightmare  
that must never be brought to life.

As I take each step on this grateful walk, through the winter's chill,
Each step a testament to life's fragile will.
The crunch of leaves beneath my feet, I inhale the scent of cinnamon and evergreen,
Echoes the whispers of memories yet to meet.

The crisp air carries the scent of pine and earth,
Reminding me of life's fleeting, precious birth.
With every breath, I inhale the beauty and the pain,
And exhale the gratitude that remains.

The snowflakes fall, each one a unique design,
A reminder of the intricate, interconnected lines.
The laughter of children echoes, a joyful, pure refrain,
A celebration of life's simple, yet profound, sweet pain.

I am grateful for the people in my life, for the love that's been my guiding light,
For the memories that shimmer, like stars on a winter's night.
For the warmth of a cup of coffee on a cold, dark day,
And the sound of music that whispers hope, come what may.

As I continue on this grateful walk,
I am reminded of the beauty that surrounds, yet often goes unspoken.
May this sense of gratitude stay with me, a constant, gentle hum,
And may I continue to walk in the beauty, wonder, and mystery that's to come

Shey Una be giant true true

Just tired
Everything seems endless,
nothing to rely on.
Nothing seems to go the way we needed it to be.

Every day is just a dilemma,
we were told to hope,
but how long will it last?
We were reassured,
but how long our will can go.

This generation source their meal
from the blame they placed on their forefathers.
They don’t know what ahead of them
what a pity.

We were pawns:
both citizens, human for those in power.
Our country keep failing us,
opportunities meant to be given to us for free
are traded like barter.

We don’t voice out no more:
suppressed,
oppressed.

We don’t capitalize the treasure bestowed upon us
instead become a fool for the white to use as their game,
but they call it fun.

We became victims without knowing
(but did I say without?
We know
but no one is ready to raise,
to create a will for the next generation).

Is it until it become too late,
before we talk?

Our youth are becoming useless:
the less privileged get the less chance,
and those who got this privilege
on a platter of gold,
don't appreciate this value.

We need to stand together
you all are seeing it
but not saying anything.
We ain’t moving forward at all,
we ain’t putting us first.

Shouldn’t our currency be more valued than others?
And we dey call ourself giant
shey una be giant true true.

We have sold our pride
for a worth that won’t make any difference
in our life.

My heart keeps crying
when I see things that ruin us,
when I see this current generations
ruining their great future.

We capitalize unnecessary things
if this keep going on,
this generation will totally lose hope.

I am tired
if you are not.

The adult say:
why do these gen z get depressed at this age?
When they were our age
they weren’t thinking of those things.
But have they asked
what brings the depression?
What makes them act the way they do now?
We ain’t robots
we can’t be the full perfection
of their expectations
or perspective.
Only God can help us right?
Since no one wants to be the hero
who even has the courage
to be like them
when our forefathers were brave,
were the giant.
Just help this young generation and the upcoming
not knowing what we go through.
This era is unhealthy for us
and it’s killing us.
I ain’t seeing any future for us
only few of the millions
are making a difference
and are proud of showing who they are.

SEDUCTIVE SHACKLES

The allure of material wealth, a heartless design
A key to unlock mysteries, yet a path to decline
It brings fleeting joy, crushing downfall, or madness
Luring you to your demise or leaving you in a daze

Mankind crafted money but soon became its slave
Enslaved by greed, an insatiable, ruthless crave
Now, a means of survival, where status is defined
You're either predator or prey, forever aligned

Mankind elevated money to a god, prioritizing wealth
Over life itself, sacrificing humour, and wholesome health
They accepted a demon-built world, not of destruction
But chaos, where love's lost its affection

Beware, people, be cautious and wise
Money is death, the grim reaper's investment
Happily awaiting its next victim, with patience and guile
Money indulges in mysterious things, a double-edged trial

Yet, it can be a source of blessings, a divine design
But only when humans know how to use it with wisdom and restraint in mind
Does it end well, or does wicked nature prevail?
The choice is ours, as we navigate life's fragile sail

Money is just a transaction, a human-made refrain
Money, money, money, our daily haunting strain
Without it, we can't acquire all we desire
A constant reminder of our deepest, most profound fire.