Sekibo Adoza
@adozasekibo656
7 days ago

Orange bleeds across Makola’s tin roofs,
the sea wind carries calls of last fried yam sellers.
A taxi horn below sounds like a third-world drum.
I hold this moment—stubborn, like the red dust on my soles—
knowing the darkness won’t ask permission.
Still, for now, the light stays.

#writing #powhistories

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