Inioluwa Fagbemi
@inioluwafagbemi
1 year ago
Invisible -a poem
Streams , in flows, they fall.
Down my face, into my clothes. I walk around with them.
I have learnt to clean them out of my ears, they seem to fill them up when I lay in bed, flowing side ways, never meeting.
The sun and wind dries them while they wet my face , They no longer make patterns on my skin; ‘the treading of footprints is what makes a pathway’.
I feel them when I smile , fake , shallow like the canals of my heart, pumping blood to keep me alive.
But what is life when you’re dead, death by drowning in these streams.
I walk around with them, my nose bleeds liquid but it’s not blood.
My chin has become a leaking tap for they sometimes flow in drops,
The back of my palm has tasted more salt than the oceans.
But they are called invisible, for no one ever sees.
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