It's easy to write about the rain
under the sunshine,
where cats and dogs and blackened fogs
fail to turn papers mushy,
and quills numb,
blinded by a light too bright to see.
It's easy to write about mountains
on low hills and plains,
where aesthetics defeat vanity,
hanging off a cliff of distorted thoughts.
It's easy to write about the gory:
blood and gruesome black pints
of crimson waters,
when you aren't the one who bleeds.
Outweighing monthly cycles, circles
of blood pool around your feet,
drowning you in a dark pit
where self pity by indignation
attempts to swallow you in
It's easy to write about the rainbow:
a concordant orchestra of colours,
when it comes once
in a blue moon,
like a figment of broken fantasies,
a pin in a hayloft.
It's easy to write about the living
...when you are not the living; dead.
Buried beneath the pretense of life.
But it's not easy to write about
the pain that clefts an oasis around you
when joy brings tears.
It's not easy to write about the living
...when you are dead
"...for what doth the living with the dead"
Oh yes, the most are : dark and dead inside,
searching for redemption.
It's not easy to see the light
at the end of the tunnel,
when you're not sure if there is a light,
or it's just a patch of white;
the sun's left footprint in your eyesight.
It's not easy to see any light
when the darkness won't let you
see, it's never really easy,
Boloere Seibidor is a writer and poet who recently built a devotion to nurturing her flair for the arts. At the grimmest hours of the night, she reads/writes suspenseful stories. Sometimes, she writes under the pseudonym, "B.S Vinnie"
Boloere is a faithful lover of bread, Ed Sheeran, and James Bay.
She was born, raised, and currently resides in Port Harcourt.
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