SILENT WHISPERS – OMOBASHORUN AGBALAGBA

I’m a listener. 

I listen to the mind,  that struggles, for attention.

 

I’m a writer. I create, and write emotions. In different stanzas. 

It is repetitive; obsessive, and calibrated.

 

I write with glory.

It speaks louder than words.

I’m obsessive with my space.

I cherish my words.

My pen spit with passion.

I have the loudest mind.

But: the lowest voice.

 

My voice is lost to violent. 

I’ve witness it.

I’ve seen it.

I’m not damage, I’m just a product of my society.

 

I’m an artist. 

I live in my illusions.

I put live in my creations.

I’m a musician, with no song.

I love the tune of music.

It gives my world, A vibe.

 

I can’t remember you.

I don’t notice you.

I may never talk to you.

Even:

 when I love you 

I know. You think, I’m pitiful.

I’m not. I’m just a little bit different.

I’m autistic.

I may not greet you.

We might not talk.

But:

To me,

We are best of friends.

I want to call your name 

I want to communicate.

But I’m autistic 

 

I love the smiles on your lips. 

I love the rhythm of your body.

I want to touch you .

May be roam my hands a little bit on the fats

 

I don’t trust you.

I don’t trust anybody.

They all take advantage of me.

They always hurt me.

I really want to talk about it.

But:

I’m autistic.

 

It’s silent whispers.

Forgotten in prints.

I want to do better.

I’m sorry.

I’m autistic.

Poetry By Ayanfe 

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