My silent stories are fading.
Unthought and nearly forgotten.
Testimonies published since grade 8,
But the chronicles, less of an epilogue.

I think about writing sequels,
But the narratives never change.
It starts with me and ends the same.
Merely less of who I used to be.

The aftermath's witness to my dirty trades and wicked deals.
Selling parts of me along the way.
Vending some life and searching for soul.
I come out just the same.



Saturday 15 February 2025