MARIAM ALAYANDE

'Watch what you wish for.' The wise ones say. Crave the truth, Don't make a wish, A warrior's battle, One between the forces of truth and secrets. Tears; the foundation of pain, The truth; the fountain cleaner, The truth is a bitter leaf, A sour, sour, mess. Bloody truth- karma's channel, The truth is generations away, A payback for an ancestral sin, A fair exchange? A sincere revenge? They could have been spared, But the curious ones can't be saved, Not without a leash, Back to the fountain, Embodying a century of pain, A foreign burden. The bricklayer arrives, The fountain uprooted from her bosom, A castle to replace her, No century's burden can enter this castle, Nothing but only what the bricklayer's love permits, A haven. ______________________________________________________________________________________ THANK YOU FOR READING. WRITTEN BY: MARIAM ALAYANDE PHOTO BY: UNKNOWN

    Drowning again, in the cold waters of sadness and disinterest, sleep is an alien, irrelevance is the order of the day. ‘It’s not depression.’ She tells herself.  ‘It’s only a slight change in my mood, maybe I’ve been stressed lately.’     The friends that call and get no response, the one hundred and fifty unread messages on her WhatsApp excluding group messages is nothing but neglect. Her desire to sleep all day and do nothing is a sign of pseudopregnancy. Her walking-dead persona at work is only temporary. Isn't it?      'I'm just exhausted.' She concludes. How tired is she? For she holds the blue knife to her wrist again. It’s not the first time, neither is it the seventh time.  ‘Do it!’ The little voice whispers again as hot-cold tears runs down her cheek. ‘Don’t do it!’ Another little voice whispers. She doesn’t want to feel anything, not anymore. Why continue this emotionless transaction with life?  ‘...