Shiey poetry

Was it beautiful?  The number of times I have given this an attempt probably indicates that it wasn't. It never has been. But it wasn't all ugly. I look in the mirror and appreciate the person I am, the result of all those ugly moments. It built me but it also broke me. It breaks me everyday.  I am a collection of every place I have been, every person I have loved, every emotion I have felt, every heart I have touched and maybe that counts as beautiful. A piece of art forged from broken pieces, some colorful and some not the shade I would have chosen. On some days these pieces shatter leaving an empty shell, on these days I am reminded that maybe I wasn't meant for this world, he who fathered me one said I was a mistake, a happy mistake he corrected. A paradox and maybe that's one of the reasons why nothing makes sense. Maybe that is why I have to constantly fight for a place in a world that wasn't meant for me. Maybe that's why I am so perfect in doing the righ...

 Talk. She could have called me. This is a safe space. I will always love you and whatnot. You do? Really? Or is this something you say just to make you feel better. To hide from the fact that in all honesty we are all in this for ourselves.  Everyday, I try to be the bigger person. To be a light to others. To be the one person you can safely run to. This I came to realize gives a false sense of friendship. Where are you all when I'm falling apart. When I end up in the same destructive habits I vowed to let go. You ask why it's so hard to change? because unlike you , those habits give me some sense of 'peace' distraction mostly but still enough so I don't lose my mind. You say ride or die but when the ride stops so do you , you immediately get busy. It's then you seem to remember you had dirty laundry from a month ago. Preoccupied in your own stuff you say but if I fell today, you'd be the first person talking of how good a person I was. Buying roses for a ...

 Dear younger self, the one I can't say I really knew. The one I ignored and kept hidden. Changing faces/phases like those of the moon until I wasn't sure who you really were. Today, I want to know you, I want to know every bit about you. How you laugh, I think loud defines you or maybe slightly modest, I've seen these two versions but can't tell which one is a camouflage and which one is you. I think you let different people define you, how you should think, who  should associate with, what you should or not eat. You, love, have always been a shadow, changing to fit in all kind of environments, you let everyone script your life because you did not know any other way to live and feel loved, you sought comfort in the wrong places and held on to the wrong ideologies. Sometimes I wonder, all kind of wild thoughts like could you have been a christian if you weren't born into a christian family? or could you have been any less uptight if you weren't punished anytime ...

 Two weeks after the general elections . The streets of Nairobi are utter chaos and so is the rest of the country . Businesses closed , some completely ruined , families starving , blood and violence now part of the everyday schedule . 40% of the residents trying to flee to their home counties commonly referred to as ocha , 40% indoors for they know no other place as home or their hometown's situation is worse , 15% terrorizing the streets while the remaining 5% are a combination of people trying to still live their lives , red cross and kind hearts trying to regain humanity . Today , on a typical Friday morning , it seems quiet . Too quiet . No gunshots , no screams , no crowds running nor GSU roaming the streets , just a calm city . This might be the perfect chance to head home . Home , the word sounds foreign . I never really had a home , just a couple of relatives who couldn't stand seeing me but at the moment that was heaven compared to what I was going through .  My kitc...

One more piece that I'll probably leave incomplete and unpublished but believe it's what I need to write to break this block .  If you were still around , you would probably say ," you're being irrational love , it's all in the mind."  or maybe you would make up a 'psychology fact' that supports my presumption and push me to work on it . I can't really tell , always unpredictable , just as I loved , love , you .  24 months and it seems to get better but somehow it's worse .  Better because it no longer hurts but does it really count when all I feel is numbness ?  A feeling that is hard to deal with when the things that make me , me , require me to recognize my emotions . Does it really count when I can no longer write even when I desperately need to ? When I can no longer have a hand in psychology and my dream is cut short ?  By choosing to ignore your whole existence and who you are to me , I lose . I lose not just you but my whole being . Tel...

 Each story has a start and it's so unfortunate I was so zoned out to take a record of ours . My memories are still a bit hazy but I remember a figure walking in and passing blunts in between the whiskey shots . As a writer I'd have loved to have a clearer image , just enough to paint a picture of how bold and exquisite you looked at that moment because that's how I picture it .  We rarely acknowledge this but everything has a timeline , like a kings ruling era or a stopwatch during a morning run and it stops as suddenly as it starts .  One evening we are complete strangers the next we are this inseparable beautiful duo . Together we made magic. You the moon on a peaceful night and I autumn leaves blowing across a moonlit street. You taught me to be less uptight , to laugh and live in the moment, to see the bigger picture in everything , to love loudly and exist . I can still taste the memories on my lips little precious tangible moments  like when my cramps hurt so ...