I was raised a silenced child
I never learnt how to scream
My lips are a graveyard of words
I was raised on expectations
I was never taught how to dream
My bed is a coffin of nightmares
Blessed but obsessed with the abyss
Kind but cruel to the man writing this
Does it make sense to you?
Maybe I was born to be read once
And never to be opened again
To be glanced at but never turn heads
To be a writer and not be written about
I really hope my words die before I do
Maybe they’ll grow into something just like seeds do

KJ 🇰🇪📖✍🏾