My poems are about love, loss and just being a young adult in a conflicting world.
Some of these poems are also for my other books like: "Her World" and "He Is & He Was" that both contain love poems.
Front cover designed by Rahma.
When I was in high school No body liked me, I was known for my freakish looks And how my name reminded them of the disease, Ebola.
They found it funny to joke about the deaths of many As it didn't matter to them, As to them those stories are just fairy tales on the magical box.
I remember a boy from a unnamed family issue, Burning my fingers and irritating my wrists with his words and melted wax that he would flick at me,
Unfazed by the smell of burning skin. Unfazed by my pleas.
A true psychopath but I didn't mention it. Until it came to telling the teacher of course, and then my parents.
I will never get over that black slug that entered by body when I heard he was still roaming free like a rabbit with rabies, My only help from the teachers was the unpleasant stagnant words:
'Get over it, power through it'
The wax boiled and hardened onto my skin But not as a extra layer to toughen me, But to scar me in ways that I couldn't get rid of
Mentally. Physically.
This is not a poem against him, This is a poem against the systems schools pretend to have. The ones which are meant to protect your children, But they are instead just nooses for them to use as striped ties.
Thank you school for showing me what the world is.
How people either hate Or don't simply care about anyone who is weaker than them, making us seem like parasites that must be killed because we don't fight like others. We talk with gentle hands instead.
I'd rather stand by my neighbours colour or religion and be proud of that through abuse, rather than to join that grey cloud because it was easier.
But the news doesn't care about good people like that.
Thank you for allowing me to tear myself apart As he smoked cancer innocently beside your maths block.
Thank you for allowing me to know that my future kids will have the same fate unless I get beaten by my husband. As then you will give them the extra love you give to the meaner, that extra ticket to give them the excuse.
I now have to teach my children to survive their lives Rather than live them.
The systems are so fucked up even an adult turns up their nose, But do not care enough to fix it
It's not their problem after all, That is what school taught me.
~Noah Ebula
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(A poem written for/by my original character Noah Ebula, a poet from my book: Her World. Which is on Wattpad now. This poem will also be used in the book!)
