For the sake of the course of life, and to let things pass through: I would bleed.

  Just to get that sweet taste of honey and have that feel of wanting that drip. Know all I know of those days are it was just to get a drip. A drip of someone I lusted over who gave to others far beyond he holds.

  AYE!

  Shouting out my name and having me collapsed out of the shattered moments I've had with you after times of heated fights. Knowing that there is not but one way to get what I want. (I'll put it bluntly, my heart so desires it. Now it's all done and over, there's no need to glance away at the details out of fear. No one's here to haunt.) He would persuade his way to have his wants and never advocate for mine.

  If I had to remind myself why I do what I want, it would be of that day.

  I snapped. My jeans were too loose and kept falling. I had overestimated how much it could hold up without the belt, and now I'm left sagging and distraught. Everything piles up as I fear my falling jeans, of which after every 2 minutes, I have to pull right up to my abdomen, tighten and swish it around, hoping to give it an extra time length. But the more swishes, the shorter its half-life. Now, nothing begets my thoughts on what fun surrounds me in this mall; all I care is how frantic I become at the tick of each second from this outfit. It was supposed to look cute. Supposed to fit. Snag and zip in all the right places. And here I am, and it's melting off me. O Lord, I call you in anger, help this girl. And in this mall, your mom is excited for you to try on some jeans after she'd spent the last hour and half on grocery shopping. You've went to the upper floor and she'd pushed you for some new clothes. Stopped by the way to check phone cases but was hurriedly pushed and brought to that aisle where you were given clothes and told to try. Went and stomped to the dressing room, the phone fell and your anger blew. The snap was losing and you pulled. Tch. Now, it's only half snugged on, so you've ripped the other half. Your phone case whose colour was pink has been separated forcefully from its strap. Anger flies and steam rang, now the clothes, with anger and annoyance, frustration drives you mad. Left to stomp back and confess, your falling jeans has made you mad.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  I know now, the importance of telling the truth, the vision others see is not what you witness as an observer or participant. My ears were all covered in my outfit and how cool it was supposed to look, failing to notice the new clothes I could've picked or the snacks I could've grabbed. Or how just a lil bit more persuasion could've given me a phone case. The steam of anger blew: exploded and left me broken about my phone case and coolness. Went walking home to my door like a melting wet sack. Couldn't find joy in the phone for days after and the anger linger and shifted to bring a new mood: displeasure. At everything and the world because I forgot to call out my own name and secure or fasten my jeans. I forgot I could stop for myself and see what I could do with these melting pants, or I could run and have them leave me behind while letting myself go meet the bathroom swinging door just to have myself poised and composed. And with all of that knowledge, I learnt it in displeasure, and I let that soak in to marinate new feelings of irritation, annoyance, discontentedness and pure disturbance within. No chaos erupted. But I know now, how dangerous it is to walk alone and have no eye on your path, too busy focusing on others' stares.

  While it rained, they hurried and clustered to share the shelter.

  Yet at the sight of downfall, they forgot the days of downpour, and ran to evacuate to their nearest shelter.

  Now the girl with the umbrella wide open is a lost giver. All has left and nobody to save, O Lord.

  I do not think

  In any form or shape,

  I understand the gravity of my emotions

  So to expect someone to,

  would simply be absurd.

  I do not think

  In any form or shape,

  I understand the gravity of my emotions

  So to discern my truth and lies, as to which is true

  take it in this case as impossible being itself

  I do not think

  In any form or shape,

  I understand the gravity of my emotions

  So to criticize others

  is beyond my specification

  (My criticization specification include only criticisms of the supposed 'me')

  I think

  In many shapes and forms

  I realize there's gravity in emotions

  So I swear and vow to live though my inner peace

  So to reflect on myself and disregard the questions of others

  So to look at my reflection and to mirror myself in the image of mine

  child of the river, why do you hold the tears

  let your lover sink.

  Translation (Yorùbá)

  AYE (pronounced ah-yeh): Life (can also mean world)

  àYé with diacritics