I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure.
I make mistakes and run in triangles and rectangles for solution I might never stumble across.
I write up memories,
I dream up wishes.
Riding on horses in the milky-clouds of my dreams.
But thunderbolt stricked through my wishing horses,
Like fire, burning papers to ashes.
There I go again, left with nothing.
Nothing but dreams, and daydreams,
Wishes and nightmares.
Like an empty barrel... Left to drum in it's emptiness.
I find perfection in accepting my imperfections.
As kindness is the most beautiful feature to have.
Passion, is the most expensive makeup of a woman.
A star in the Crescent.
©Madinah_Writes
07.08.2021
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Fragrance From A Black Flower
Poetry#1 in blackpoets This collection of poems is intended to give some account of the conditions in which African oral poets produce their works, and the audiences to which they address themselves. However, even the most summary account of this topic is...
