THE PSEUDO SMILE
THE PRICE FOR
The tears behind
behind my grievances,
the ugly being
behind the amazing soul,
the pains I pass
through in seclusion,
the feigned smile
I give in public,
the goal is not
to look like what we’ve passed through,
hence the reason
for the superficial happiness.
But deep down,
reverse is the case.
The faith we
have is what keeps us going,
though we’ve got
instances that we felt like giving up,
but then that’s
not an option
already know what we are in for.
These are the
prices for success.
The woman I am is not what you see,
the real me is not known to you.
I am not that grace you envy;
I am only a broken woman,
battered and shattered by pains, bitterness and
My heart bleeds like erosion.
Ye,t I walk in confidence pretending it’s all
‘cause that’s what they expect of me;
to cover up for the monster called man
so to save my head the shame that comes with speaking
Pains speak but I’ve held her mouth too tight to open
just so I don’t lose my dignity before my people.
© Whesu Henriette.
TEARS BEHIND MY
The smile on my face is a mask;
one I wear in daylight,
and pull off at bedtime.
Only I see it.
It’s not too good but,
I make it a benchmark to reach my goals,
for the holes being fallen into.
The pain is but for a moment,
’cause I know, Joy comes in the morning.
These pains shall become gain one day.
BELLEZZA: THE STORY OF A BEAUTIFUL DEMON
They both decided to embark on a long silence, as they
walked along the rustic old road of Dabut. She feigns a faint smile and looks
at him, wondering why it is taking a very long time, before he recognizes the
vengeance behind her laughter. She knows her kingdom waits, and her sins are
waiting to nail her. Regardless of this, the killer in her is ready to strike
again. Even now! This time, there is nothing to stop it. He has to be the
victim. Slowly, she brings out a knife. The rest became a story for another
© Dara Samuel
THE REAL ME
Most times I wonder, why?
I hide my anguish in clay
and kvell on me displays.
Will people find out?
No one has ever met her.
The real me;
hoosegow inside of me!
The part of me that knows no joy,
dark and mysterious.
Reasons behind these faded smiles,
on tears horse she rides.
Leave her alone,
less her sadness aches your heart.
Just appreciate the fake me!
FINGERS AREN’T EQUAL
The world of Contrasting ideas, where some roads are
smooth in swiftness
and others are damn rough, happy become some selected
inmates with no knowledge
of obstruction, some faces beam in tranquility to
enjoy non frivolity of life.
Some shabby faces full of agony decrying the lethal
part of life.
If life should appear in a glowing flowing welcome
or it stands in a pathetic horrible feature,
the end of every man depicts the fact that all his
fingers aren’t equal.
© Waleeyah Olalekan.
THE GRIEVE BEHIND MY SMILE
I preach bravery,
so I shouldn’t be caught a coward.
All the time I spend with my friends
I make sure my grieve isn’t noticed.
I find it so easy to live that way
because I don’t want to be mocked .
Truly life hasn’t been so favorable.
Some ungraceful events which I have faced
could I have changed what life will bring across my
We all have limited control over life,
but we are being oblivious how much control we can
Only if I have made my grieve known to them who are
closer to me,
maybe living in excruciating grieve wouldn’t have been
a part of me
© Salami Emmanuel Adekunle
It pleased me when I started,
it blinded my eyes when I waxed strong in it –
because it pageants out the hidden beauty in me.
Chemicals I applied on my face and I enjoyed it.
Now it is done on me.
My face is burnt,
the physical beauty I longed for has faded away.
Now I’m neither artificial nor natural.
© James Nkechi Joy
A PICTURE OF YOU
I find no wall to hand your picture;
I hope it’s OK because I carry it like I carry my
And, I sometimes hang it away from the common sense of
I just want it to surprise my adrenaline every time your face pops up.
I find no wall to make the background of your picture,
I take this little poem and color it to the hues of
your imitable smile.
I find no wall to fit the picture that has your smile.
© Ajayi Seun
And when I am with me,
I need not dissemble.
I put off the mask, and wear myself.
For the kids I mask brightly,
for their father a bashful smile.
For mother-in-law, a timid beam,
for the whole world; a sad grin.
But for me; a forlorn, hidden behind a thousand cheers.
You need not worry though, only that a death protocol,
is scheduled as the days go by.
Listen! I’m not angry.
I just want to put on my mask of hidden sorrows.
© Akin OLA