₦airaland Forum

Culture Stripes by AnthCunny

The heavy rainfall that morning made Dr Steve's office humid and cool. It was still raining, but lightly. The weather condition had made the hospital environment less noisy for a typical Monday morning. The janitors, clerks and assistant health workers who would have been chattering noisly in their local dialect were nowhere to be found. Perhaps, they were in some corners of the building keeping warm. Or even in their bed with their spouses sharing body heat - trying to keep healthy.
Dr Steve checked the time on his wrist-watch for the upteenth time. It was 9:25 am. He was still indecisive if to begin attending to patients. One of the nurses had already dropped some files on his table. They were about ten in number. The expression in his face when the nurse dropped the files spoke loudly of the stress he had to pass through everyday.
"Gabriel Ivy." Dr Steve called out the name on the first file. No thanks to the cozy effect the weather was having on his voice.
Just when he was about repeating the name, he heard three quick successive knock on the door. A lady entered. She was in her late 20s (so she looked) and had her slim figure cladded in a pair of blue jeans trousers and grey coloured sweater. Her red sneakers giving her the vibe of a youth full of life.
"Ivy?" Dr Steve asked.
"Yeah."
"Have your seat," he offered. He didn't seem to be in a hurry. His eyes was fixed on her as she walked briskly to sit on the only chair directly opposite to him. Her fair skin caught his fancy. Dr Steve had never hidden his likeness for light skinned girls, especially when he was in the midst of his peers. The case of Ivy was a bit spectacular. Her pitch-dark neatly combed hair arranged in a ponytail made him drowse in more admiration.
Dr Steve would have continued with business of the day if not that she was lost in admiring his office. There was really nothing special about his office, save for some old colourful posters and calendar that were either advertising some weird drugs or enlightening patients about a disease or the other. Ivy took her time to look through the award plaques that were strategically placed on his table. Maybe the awards would convince her to trust the doctor the more.
"So, what's the problem?" Dr Steve asked when he noticed she was done admiring.
Ivy was unsure of what to say "Fever, I guess." She blurted. "Occasional fever. Fatigue. I just don't know". The confusion on her face was glaring.
Dr Steve was not convinced a bit. He knew something was amiss. He just couldn't place his fingers around it. He rested his back fully on the chair while folding his arms indicating his patience."
"Tell me another thing," he inquired further.
"Like what?"
"...like the remaining things wrong." Dr Steve wasn't one of those doctors that would hurry to scribble horrible names of drugs for patients to buy. Over the years, he had learnt to be patient with his patients.
"C'mon Ivy, if you don't tell your doctor, who then will you tell?" He tried being persuasive.
Ivy felt her face redden with tears gathering in her eyes. She was still having a double mind if to pour our her heart to the doctor. She avoided eye contact with him - just to prevent the tears from rolling down.
"My breasts."
"Huh? What about it?" Dr Steve didn't hide his shock. He leaned forward with his two hands supporting the weight of his body on the table.
"Pains. They've gotten sores that would refuse to heal. I've tried everything. It would itch till I bleed." Ivy was no longer conservative with her words and emotions.
"For how long?"
"Three years."
"Three what?!" Dr Steve exclaimed. He wasn't sure he heard right.
"... and just recently, I started noticing a lump beneath my left breast," she continued.
"I don't get it! Have you been sleeping all these while or what?! For three years? And you have done nothing about it?"
It was until Ivy's watery eyes started shedding off its tears that Dr Steve realised how unprofessional he had become. The anger was just too much to contain.
'So with all the jingles, posters, enlightenment, people can still be this ignorant,' he had thought.
Memories of what happened 15 years ago began to play in her head. As she remembered each detail, her cry became louder.
"Talk to me I've, why did you take this long?"

******************************************

(Flashback - 15 years ago in a remote village in Kastina, a Nothern state in Nigeria.)

Ivy clenched unto the wrapper of her mother as they waited for their turn. Five other women with their children were also seated on the long bench at the narrow corridor that served as the waiting room leading to the 'theatre'. The air reeked of dust with a mixture of tobacco smell and Aboniki - a popular massaging balm. The sunlight that permeated through the broken wooden window made the cracks on the walls of the mud house very visible. No one seemed to be bothered. Probably, the faith they had in the scantily thached roof had extended to the already falling mud house.
Ivy could feel her heart beat faster. She was just 13 years old and had no ikling about what was going on in the room opposite where they sat. The old torn curtain did a great job in obstructing her view, but not the screams of her peer in in there.
"Mummy, please... it's painful," was all Ivy could hear. She looked up to her mother to find some consolation for what she was going to pass through. Her mother's face was blank. No hope.
"Next!" the old woman in the room squealed.
It was the turn of Ivy. Ivy's mother pulled Ivy up from the bench and dragged her into the room. The sight Ivy beheld sent cold shivers down her spine. It was a bit smoky in the room as a result of the fire the old woman used in boiling water for her business.
Ivy could still see the previous 'patient' lay on the Bamboo bed. She had the upper part of her body bared and her sprouting breast hit continuously with the head of a broom.
"E don do?" the old woman would ask the girl's mother between intervals.
"Errrmmm... it's okay for now. Let's be watching it." The girl's mother who was having a hard time restraining her daughter from escaping finally approved.
"Wahala no dey," the old woman stopped and started putting her equipments in order. "but I get some materials we she fit dey weather for chest make the breast for no dey show. Na strong elastic material," the old woman continued while trying to advertise some elastic bands that could be worn on the body.
"Next time," the girl's mother waved it off.
The little girl was soon dressed up by her mother and led out of the room.
"Lie down," the old woman commanded Ivy. "You no go commot your shirt first?" She asked rhetorically with an irritated face that left more wrinkles to her already wrinkled face.
Ivy obeyed and laid flat. The imagination of what it felt like made her hands and feet shiver.
"Madam, which one I go use?" the old woman asked Ivy's mother.
"I don't know. Anyone we go better," the confused mother gave her permission.
"Na turning-garri go better," the old woman said referring to the wooden spoon used for cooking.
Ivy felt her heart sink.
"Mummy, please, I don't want to do," Ivy begged her mother for the hundredth time.
"Shut up!" her mother scolded. "Do you want all the boys in the village to be following you around? Do you want to carry belle at this your small age?" Ivy's mother continued scolding with her stern face that hadn't smiled since they stepped their feet in the old woman's place.
"My pikin, no fear," the old woman tried assuring Ivy through a wry smile that made her look more horrible. "E no go pain you too much. Every woman wey you dey see for this village don pass through this thing - for my hand sef. Na for your own good my pikin."
Those words only aided in making Ivy cry more. Ivy watched as the old woman dipped half of the wooden spoon into the boiling water and held it for about a minute. Thereafter, she proceeded to where she was laid and pressed it forecefully on her sprouting breasts. The loud scream that escaped from her mouth was the last thing she remembered that happened that very day.

*********************************************

(Present day at Dr Steve"s office)

"I'm scared, Doctor. The pains I experienced all in the name of Breast Ironing are still fresh in my head. I don't want to have anything to do with my breasts again. I can't go through such pains again," Ivy cried. Her tears tasted saltier than it should. While her lower lip seemed too stiff as she tried chewing on it to prevent her teeth from clattering. Intermediately, when she tastes the blood spilling from her bruised lip, she would transfer her aggression to the middle fingernails of her right palm, making sure she chop off everything till they bled.
Dr Steve wasn't prepared for what he was seeing that morning.
"Listen, Ms Ivy, you have no idea of the danger you are in right now. Something needs to be done. Treatment has to begin! It could be breast cancer or a serious infection that had eaten deep into your system. Don't be a coward! Anytime you keep wasting here counts. You may even die if care is not taken." Dr Steve tried all possible words to encourage her.
"I don't care. I don't bloody care!" Ivy screamed at the top of her voice.
There and then, Dr Steve knew he had lost it. There was no way he was going to convince a traumatic patient who had resigned to fate. He relaxed a little and thought of what next to do. With a jerk, he removed the stethoscope that hung on his neck and pulled off his lab coat.
"Let's pretend I'm not a doctor for now," Dr Ivy said trying to put up a new character.
"Why?"
"It doesn't matter, just look at my face. Look closer. What do you see?" Dr Steve asked.
Ivy tried figuring out what he was driving at, but couldn't.
"Look here." Dr Ivy used his fore-finger to draw a horizontal lines on the two sides of his cheeks.
"Tribal marks."
"Correct! Tribal marks! These are tribal my dad made me have when I was seven years old all in the name of culture! He disfigured my face. He made me hide my face whenever I was with my mates. I became an object of ridicule. My self esteem kept on going down every day." Dr Steve sounded like he was going to break into tears. He allowed her imagination wander a bit. It was no good imagination. She shook her head trying to stop the imaginations from coming.
"Do you think you are the only one that has been bastardised by some ridiculous cultural practices?" Dr Steve asked with a father-like tone. He could feel a sense of guilty come over her gradually.
"Ivy, many people have been there and are already pulling through. You want to be left behind? You want your past to kill you?"
Ivy shook her head lightly.
"Then let's begin treatment! Over there, LIE DOWN." Dr Steve geticulated at the bed in his office.
'Lie down,' the exact words the old woman used years back had come up again.
"...for physical examination." Dr Steve quickly added.

Professor Leo: The Monkey Theory (Fiction)
" Mr Gibson, not now, Please." Prof. Leo muttered to himself, not until the churning of Mr Gibson's heavy duty truck became loudest.
"To hell with you and your road-forsaken shapeless truck!" Prof Leo screamed amidst hitting the wooden frame of his king-sized bed. This made his wife stir a bit. A deep sleeper she was.
It was just 4:35am and the neighborhood was already getting noisy. The noise from motor vehicles; the clanging of plates from kitchens; the hitting of pestles against mortars; the opening and jamming of gates were few things that characterised a typical weekday morning in the neighborhood.
Prof. Leo switched on the lamp by his bedside, sat up and began his morning meditation. His eyes peered through every nook and cranny of his spacious bedroom as if he was looking for something. That morning seemed to be very unusual. He couldn't just place his fingers on the thing making him restless. With a quick turn, his gaze beheld the beautiful face of his wife still sleeping. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly.
His smile was short-lived by the thought of his 10-year childless marriage. The feeling of guilt enveloped him.
"Why can't I give this beautiful woman a child of her own?" He questioned himself.
"Or is she barren?" He continued
"Well, patience." Prof. Leo consoled himself. At 39, he still believed that there is no cause alarm.
The alarm on his wall clock began to ring.
It was 5:00am already.
Prof Leo brought out his laptop and logged in to his Facebook account. This was a way of keeping himself abreast of things happening around hi.
He began scrolling down his News feed. So fast he was that he nearly skipped a post made by a colleague at work. He picked an unusual interest to see what the post was about.
"21-year old Microbiology student commits suicide." The post read.
The picture of a dark-skinned girl greeted his curious face. The girl's face was a beauty to behold. Her white gapped teeth was alluring. Prof Leo couldn't help but to admire such a beautiful creature. It was so saddening that she was dead.
Prof Leo shook his head. He was already imagining what her parents will be passing through.
He was about scrolling past when something struck him. The face looked familiar. He tried remembering where he had seen the face, yet he couldn't. The conviction was so strong.
Prof Leo was almost giving up on his memory when he suddenly remembered.
"No! This can't be!" Prof Leo screamed, causing his wife to wake up from her deep sleep.
"This just can't be." Prof Leo was already loosing hold of his emotions. His memory became clearer. He could see the previous day's event playing before him. His eyes turned watery. The tears were forming. They weren't just forming, they started caressing his fully bearded cheek.
Sia, Prof. Leo's wife, couldn't believe her ears. It was her husband sobbing.
"Leo?" She called.
Prof. Leo on realizing his wife had woken up, started mopping-up his tears. The more he cleaned, the more they flowed.
"Leo, what is it?" His wife inquired.
When she realized she was getting no answer if she kept lying down, she sat-up beside Leo. Her eyes fell on the beautiful face of the suicide victim.
"Who is she, Leo? What happened to her?"
After so many months or probably years, Sia found herself showing deep concern for her husband. This was one of the few times she caught her husband crying.
"Talk to me, Leo!" Since couldn't bear the silence. Her tear-glands were already betraying her. She couldn't stand the sight of her husband crying.
"She was my student. A 100 level student." Prof. Leo replied his wife while trying to control his tears. He had always being a fan of the popular saying, 'Real men don't cry'.
"Oh! Is that so?" She asked mockingly. She gave a loud hiss.
"Is that what is making you cry?" She began to taunt him (as usual).
"Leo, you will not cease to amaze me."
"Stop it!" Leo confronted his ever-annoying wife.
"I'm just having a guilty conscience. Maybe I was part of the reasons she killed herself." Prof. Leo placated her (in what seemed to be like a confession).
Sia was torn in-between having pity for her husband and mocking him. She settled for the full gist instead. Reaching out for the laptop, she clicked "...see more" to read the full story.
"21-year old Microbiology student, Celine Hills, commits suicide as a result of fustration. Report has it that the 100-level orphan was fond of lamenting about the inability of her uncle to buy the necessary books and materials she needed for school.
"However, Celine took the decision to end her life after one of her evening biological practical classes. Celine was found dead by 11:20 pm in her room. Her death is believed to be caused by an overdose of unknown medicine-tablets."
The story began to make more sense to Sia.
"Leo, were you the one that took them on the practical class?" Sia inquired from her husband. Her husband only gave an affirmative nod.
"Leo what did you do to a poor innocent girl?!"
*. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *
(FLASH BACK)
3:52 pm, 9th November, 2009.
Prof. Leo hurriedly walked into the 1st-year Biology laboratory in wde strides. Checking the time on his wrist-watch, he realized the degree of his lateness.
"How time flies these days," he thought while using his white handkerchief to wipe off the bead of sweat that was forming on his face.
Within a minute, he was already settled on the podium of the spacious laboratory. The laboratory was one of the recently commissioned projects in the school. Painted in light brown colour, the white LED bulbs made the laboratory more admirable. The only fault the laboratory seemed to have was limited number of chairs. Some students were seen standing at some strategic positions in order to get a good view of the lecteurer.
"Good day, class." Prof. Leo boomed through the microphone with his husky voice permeating the air.
"Good day, sir." The students responded. There was a little upsurge of noise. Some students were taking final positions on their seats will some were arguing over ownership of chairs.
Prof. Leo checked his wrist-watch again. It was 3:58 pm. He was already one hour behind schedule.
"Please, I don't have time to waste. There are many things to cover this semester." Prof. Leo pleaded.
The students took a cue and all resolved to be quiet. There was drop dead silence in the laboratory.
"Before we continue for today," Prof. Leo began, "I hope everyone has his/her dissecting sets. Like I said in the previous class , the ones in the laboratory will not be enough for everybody. You have no other option but to get a personal one."
The class erupted into another round of noise. Too many people murmuring. It was a habit for students to feign unawareness whenever unpleasant instructions were given.
"Listen up!" Prof. Leo became charged. He wasn't ready to dance to the tune of the students this time around.
"If you don't have your dissecting set, please leave my class."
The rowdiness grew worse. Students started running to and fro the laboratory, probably to retrieve their dissecting sets from their friends. Some were making aimless noise, definitely to fustrate the effort of the lecturer.
Prof. Leo stood upright on the podium with a stern face, secretly admiring the students dressed in their white laboratory coats, and some over-excited ones wearing surgical face mask. He knew the perfect face to put up when dealing with rebellious students.
"At the count of three..."
"Sir please, we will get ours in the next class," some students cut him short with their plea. Many students soon joined in pleading
"Shut up!" Prof. Leo feigned annoyance. Deep within him, he felt a soft spot for their plea. The number of students that hadn't gotten theirs were few. He felt the urge to pardon them.
"I said shut up!" He thundered again . There was no way he was going to fall for some deceptive plea.
"Listen up. It's not my fault. I am not the government that has refused to provide enough equipments in the laboratory. If you don't buy your own, how are you going to learn ?" Prof. Leo's question had a way of making the students mute again.
"Sir please, we will get ours next week." The melodious voice of an average height dark-skinned girl standing by the far end of the laboratory responded to Prof. Leo's question.
Everyone turned their gazes towards her. The looks on the students faces seemed to applaud her of her courage.
Prof. Leo was enveloped with mixed feelings. The young girl's appeal sounded like an insult to his authority. He wasn't sure. 'It might just be the plea of a committed student', he thought.
"Young lady, what is your name?" Prof. Leo asked.
"Celine Hills" The girl answered. Fearless but with a humble look.
Prof. Leo had never been so confused in a long while. Such a beautiful girl. Her bluish eyes were bright enough to melt the stony heart of a tyrant king. He began envisaging such a beautiful damsel as his daughter.
"Our of my class!" Prof. Leo roared, banging his fist in the wooden lectern.
Prof. Leo was taken aback by his own action. He never meant to do what he did.
"Does it matter?" He questioned himself inwardly. "These students need to see me as a tough lecturer." He justified his actions.
Celine packed her books and made for the door out of the laboratory. She was already crying before she got to the door. Other students who hadn't gotten theirs joined her out of fear. Celine's friends and 'well-wishers' also followed her to console her.
Prof Leo was restless. The urge to teach left him. The laboratory now scanty. He checked his wrist-watch for the upteenth time. It was 4:15 pm. So much time wasted already. He sighed and started flipping through the pages of his book.
"Please, turn with me to page 16 of your practical handbook." The practicals started.
*. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *. *.
(PRESENT DAY)
10:30 am, 27th November, 2019.
It was another occasion of the Annual Matriculation ceremony of the university. The matriculants were seated, beautifully decorated in their matriculation gowns. The 3,000 capacity auditorium was filled to its brim.
Seated on the podium included the Vice Chancellor, Deputy Vice Chancellor (Academics), Registrar and Deans of various faculties. The matriculants were seated at the front rows of chairs. Parents and well-wishers were seated at the far end of the auditorium.
The ceremony had started in earnest with the Vice Chancellor giving his opening speech. This was quickly followed by the oath-taking by the students. The manner in which the students chorused the 'sacred lines' depicted their lack of understanding of what they were doing. But, who cared? It was more like a ritual to observe all protocols.
"Next on the line-out for today's event is a talk by Professor Leonard Adney," the emcee announced. From the way the students clapped and shouted, one would have mistaken the speaker to be a very popular personality. The students couldn't be blamed. Their joy was too much.
Prof. Leo walked majestically unto the podium. His steps were short and precise.He was claded in a black tuxedo and black Italian shoes to match. His head bore a clean shave - the type that reflected the light rays from the LED bulbs. His beards were more fuller than it used be. It was obvious he was mourning.
"The Vice Chancellor, Deputy Vice Chancellor (Academics), Registrar, Deans,..." Prof. Leo started reeling out protocols. He we had no papers with him with which he read from.
"It's with great pain that I stand to deliver this lecture (as I choose to call it)." Prof. Leo began his introduction. The atmosphere in the auditorium changed all of a sudden. Quietness soon enveloped everywhere. Some were curious - curious to know why a professor should be wearing such attire to a joyous occasion.
"It's been 18 days since a should-be matriculant took her life." Prof Leo addressed the matriculats. "My own student, under my very watch." He emphasized.
"To this end, I've decided to centre my lecture around this incident. I title it The Monkey Theory. Yes, the Monkey Theory." He reiterated amidst murmurs over the weird topic.
"Listen up," Prof Leo drew everyone's attention while moving away from the lectern on the podium in order to get a clearer view of his audience.
"Many years back, during my Masters degree program, I stood under an orange tree in the heart of the university's zoo. It was my usual spot each time I needed to meditate. All of a sudden, I saw a monkey swinging from one branch of the tree to another, right over my head. He was with a banana which he held preciously. He soon settled down and began munching it."
Prof. Leo paused his story to assess the level of attention he had garnered. Everyone was looking at him. They wanted to hear more more.
"Then, I began to wonder," Prof Leo broke the suspense, "how he got the banana knowing fully well that it is near-impossible for a monkey to climb a banana tree."
The students looked surprised. Some began to question the authenticity of Prof. Leo's revelation. Others keyed-in into Prof. Leo's revelation and tried solving his riddle.
"Listen up," Prof Leo called out again. It was obvious he couldn't do without telling his audience to listen up. "You will agree with me that the banana is the monkey's favourite food." The students responded with heavy affirmative nods. "In fact," he continued, "whenever you see a monkey, you are likely to see bananas by its side. But, how does it get them?!" Ptof. Leo asked with so much energy in his voice.
"As I stood under that orange tree that day watching the monkey, I heard the monkey say something. You know what he said? He told me, 'hey young man, stop staring at me. If you think I'm going to share my banana with you, then you must be joking. It took me a whole lot to get what I'm eating!". The students bursted into laughter at his illustration. But Prof Leo's countenance was not changed a bit. He meant every word he said.
"Listen up once again. My dear students, everybody wants to achieve success, but they fail to realize that it costs a whole lot.
"Wether you like it or not, the best things of life are seemingly almost impossible to get. It takes you something extra-ordinary for you to get there. Something different from the physical strength you possess. Something different from the norm!
"This led to The Monkey Theory I coined out. Here is what it says: 'SUCCESS IS SWEET; THE ROAD IS TERRIBLE; IF YOU PERSEVERE, YOU GET THERE.
"This was what Celine Hills, the suicide victim, failed to understand. You are all seated here happy to have gained admission into this great institution. But one thing you shouldn't fail to understand is that it is never going to be easy.
"There are times you will fall. There are times you wil perform poorly. There are times you will feel like giving up. There are times you will be fustrated. There are times you will be down financially. There are also times you will feel abandoned. If only you can hear the voice of the monkey. It is asking you, 'why can't you persevere just a little more?'
"We, your lecturers, want the best for you. Nobody hates you.
"And before I drop the microphone," Prof Leo took a long pause. His emotions were beginning to take over him. "I want to implore my fellow lecturers to see to the welfare of these students. They are ours. Let us be a part of their success story. Thank you."
Prof. Leo took a bow and started going going down the stairs leading to the podium. Everyone in the auditorium stood on their feet to cheer him. The ovation was louder this time around.
THE END.

AS I KISS THE WORLD GOODBYE
By
Ojei Emmanuella Ngozi

As I kiss the world goodbye

Sitting here with no more feelings
The feeling of existence and being human
I no longer possess
Those peaceful chirps from the morning birds
As they queue up excitedly on the gigantic cedar tree
Outside my window, like an orchestrated choir
Suddenly no longer amuse me
I long for greater promises above all I see before me

To you friends,
I know you will be the first to wail
Epistles of greatness I possess,
You will proclaim to the world
The constant help you have rendered to me you will acclaim
How you would have to help more only if I have asked you will lament
Well I say thank you,
Thank you for your claims, thank you for being you
For the days you backstabbed me I say......... gracias!
Indeed u pluck spears from my eyes
Even though you neglected the several in your own eyes
Then the spears from my eyes,
My heart you use to dismember
You were quick to judge me to the world
A river-full of tears I have donated for your sake

As I kiss the world goodbye

To acquaintances
Sometimes you regard me as sweet
Maybe to please me I guess
Then most of the time, I am the devil you see
Well, thank you!
Thank you for making me feel unwanted
And in my face proclaim love to me
Those thousand storms,
For your sake I have sojourn
Never in a hurry will I dispatch
I hope you got all you wanted from me
The bucket I mean to kick
And unfair of me will it be
Without first raising to you a final..... Aloha!
Or better still.......... Au revior

As I kiss the world goodbye

I imagine how it will be,
Men will lift my once underrated body,
Which of course would have been adorned,
With those clothes I never got to wear
Flowers will reside all around me
When in days I had sought for one of those sweetly perfumed roses,
But never have I received any
Aaah!...... My heart breaks and from my eyes tears freely escape
You were always needing me
And I was always there,
But when I needed anyone,
A thousand miles they will be away from me
Ouch!........ I wish I never remember these days anymore

As I kiss the world goodbye

To........ mi familia
You were always there,
Always expecting more,
Making sure i understand,
That I am a burden you we're meant to carry
For a sickly child, what is to be expected
Times before I had tried to make you see
"I did not create myself this way"
But now...... I don't want to know anymore
Hmmm!......... Maybe you were right,
I don't belong here,
I never did,
Sorry for the bother,
Thank you for letting me see the world,
But now I want to go away
This way I won't bother you anymore,
Even at death I still acclaim you as my beloved
I don't judge you,
I only admire your courage,
Keeping up with a "problem " like me is a job,
A blacksmith,
Who bends those stubborn irons into adorable objects
Could have never coped,
Like a more stubborn iron,
I have proved unbendable over the years
For all I say thank you

As I kiss the world goodbye

I plead to my creator,
Do not reject me, for in your bosom I come
I have one last wish,
That I will come visit the world again
But has a more better person
Who deserves all the love the world has to offer
As a stronger person,
who can take all what life throws at me
As a better person,
That brings smile to every face, I meet
As a selfless person,
That makes the world a better place for others
And not just myself
As a resilient heart,
Who will not take suicide as an option,
To run away from crisis
As a freedom fighter,
Who will fight and curb the ills of the society
As a me,
That will love all,
Even when I don't feel their love
I will believe in their smiles,
And reside in any amount of comfort I find,
For one cannot have everything
But has for now, the deed has been done
I can only wish for a better next time,
What an eventful life.............. Au revior!