THE MESSAGE
  • Reads 9
  • Votes 2
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
  • Reads 9
  • Votes 2
  • Parts 1
  • Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Aug 30, 2019
🚢🏾, my hands you asked for . I let them fly in the air , rejoicing finally! I have been noticed and now I have one to talk to , A friend . 
Days come on us , weeks we trend together , years we both made . Now you know my commandment, my cross which lies between my heart . 
I'm going home , where this road takes me I already know ,  the passion of Christ ,  trynna get to the world of it . The entrance is death ❗ . 
 I send a message to the heavens , only the Prince of Persia holds my request , the message is delivered on thee . He tells me , It more

Than what I can ever receive , or imagine to happen , why is this I ask ¿🚢🏾
 He says , the water in the air is only a pretence for me not to see the danger, fire , trouble at hand . 
 Being confused enough , I look into the air the water is flowing through gently , faces are smooth , the atmosphere taking a change in every aspect . 
 After my observations , I return a message to thee . I tell him , i don't see any picture in the message given to me , all I see is the reality of the otherside  of the ocean , and water is good .


Sigh! He says , all is dark to the blind , all is good to the rich , all is either of the both sides to the poor, the all is seen to the filled ones . 
When the times comes , the blind Shall see , the rich shall work , the poor shall live , and the filled ones which rule . 
Only then will you know the water isn't safe no more . 
     The message βœ‰ 
                             By      Ademide Ogunkola🚢🏾
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92 parts Ongoing

MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips. SOON TO BE A PUBLISHED PAPERBACK. COMING 2025! This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again. Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken. Perhaps under this layer of melancholy, the girl I once knew still exists. ο ½ ο ½ ο ½ First poetry collection in the series. Original poems based off real life experiences. #12 in poetry. Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva. π‘΄π’†π’π’‚π’π’„π’‰π’π’π’š copyright Β© May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.