I usually ask myself, “why do people tend to lose interest in me after some time? ” I usually end up alone but I’ve leant to love solitude.


Planet or plastic?

Plastic pollution is a global issue. Our precious oceans, beaches, coral reefs are caught in the middle. And sadly, Kenya is no exception. Recently the ban on plastic bag use was a great move by the Kenyan government however plastic waste management remains an issue.

Self love

Last night i had to go through my book shelf found magazines

Flippin through the magazines

Page after page of glossy perfection

Perfect shots with perfect aims

Brighter eyes

Prettier faces caked with tonnes of makeup

Fuller lips with expensive lipstick.

Soft skin and I mean so soft with no flake of hair… No hair at all

Slinky waists, thinner, taller bodies,

Did I forget the luscious curves and graceful breasts.?. Well no.

Sleek hair…

Well, looks like these magazines are making fun of me in broad daylight,.

Look at me

Kinky hair,

No curves at all

Tiny breast, peanuts.


Yeah, reason I never had a boyfriend,. I’m gonna die alone… *giggles*

Who cares as long as I love my body and myself I’m okay.

Fuck the world with their opinion.

Deep down.

Our minds are silent with chaos,

Our eyes are calm with downpours,

Our bodies are composed but deep down a volcano ready to erupt and shake us,

But do we say?

Do we speak out?

Do we confide in anybody?

Do we trust even ourselves?


We rather die in silence slowly than be labelled attention seekers,

We rather keep it cool than be called egoistic,

Why does human have to become so inhuman?

He has evolved to a more vicious self.

We rather hold our heads high, smile and move on, only to later break down when alone,

We become lonely, depressed, suicidal

We have closed our doors and opened our windows

For just a breeze to make it’s way through,

Than for a person to walk in on us

We inflict pain on ourselves,

Hoping we may feel better,

But the pain won’t go away

We want to seek help but we lose our will immediately,

We want to be set free,

We close our eyes and shut ourselves,

We need help,

Instead of labels we need help,

We need love,

We want to be told, it’s gonna be okay,

That it’s just a phase,

That everything will make perfect sense,

That we are worthy,

Worthy of every breath we take,

Worthy of every second we live,

That we are precious,

That we are loved,

It’s all we need, love, care, understanding.


Broken stupid sad boy.

The spark in your eyes when you see him,

The glow in your skin when you’re around him,

The smile that spreads on your lips,

Screams love,

You can’t wait to whisper love to his ears, draw love patterns on his skin,

Just to touch him,

But does he feel the same??

He is always out on business,

He is drunk when you call to wish him success in business meetings,

He never checks on you,

I guess you are hopelessly in love,

You have destroyed your walls for him to enter,

He is too dump to see it,

That boy keeps you waiting for him,

Patience, patience,patience

Patience is not your thing,

He will come around, you console yourself,

That day,you will be seated across the table,

And watch those words fall from your mouth like a slippery glass,

That shatters to pieces as it hits the ground,

With nobody to fix it, or even pick up the pieces,

He will grow silent like a stone,

Immersed in thoughts, maybe,

Not wanting you to decrease him to reality,

This boy never loved you at all

He never did,

He is just another sad broken, stupid boy.

Don’t kill yourself.

Not yet.

My mama used to tell me, don’t become somebody’s wife before you do.

Poem by Sheilah.

Funny??? Right?? But true

You wake up, do breakfast, dishes, clothes, shoes, make the bed, iron his clothes,

You’re just a maid to him. Are you his mother? Are you his wife?

Why mother a bearded man?

Why are you afraid to be labelled a feminist, because we’re all equal?

He fucks you whenever he wants to all in the name of love.

I don’t know what kind of math is this, signing your death sentence, just an inch away from your salvation,

We are thought to reason, but the heart is tough headed, making the mind stagnate,

I don’t know the kind of teachings we give our girls, ‘respect a man’,

This boy is gonna find a better wife while you’re still doing his dishes,

The shock, confusion, embarrassment, will hit you hard,

‘I was with him through thick and thin’is gonna be your new favourite slogan,

But he won’t be there to wipe your tears or comfort you.

Stop being a wife, at least not yet.

And run,

Stay woke