One day, Africa will rise, not in whispers but in thunder,
Her heartbeat echoing through the valleys and over mountains yonder.
No longer cloaked in silence or chained to hungry hands,
She’ll dance to drums of freedom across her golden lands.

One day, our greedy kings will fall like broken towers,
Their palaces of lies washed away by truth’s pure showers.
No more stolen harvests, no more borrowed time—
The youth will speak in fire, in rhythm, and in rhyme.

We, the children of tomorrow, born of dust and flame,
Will write new stories where every child has a name.
No one shall starve in plenty, nor kneel to beg for peace—
We’ll plant seeds of justice where corruption used to feast.

Africa will wear her scars like medals on her chest,
A warrior who bled but never laid to rest.
She will be sung in every tongue from Cairo down to Cape,
Her voice a mighty chorus no tyrant can reshape.

So rise, my people, rise like the rivers after rain,
Lift the continent with vision, turn the struggle into gain.
For Africa is not sleeping—she is gathering her might,
And when she rises, oh when she rises—
She will blind the world with light.

Some people laugh,
but they’re hurting inside.
They say, “I’m fine,”
with tears they hide.
So always be gentle,
you never quite know,
who’s faking the light
while feeling the low.

We will build securities and places where you're safe,
A shelter in the storm, a softly glowing space.
Our love will reign supreme through night and day,
A bond that time won’t tarnish or displace.
No fear can shake what we create and know—
In every breath, our sacred garden grows.

Her love for me, my love for her—pure, bold, and bright—
Is freedom’s flight, is joy in morning’s light.
It sings in silence, dances through the rain,
A radiant fire that warms away the pain.
It is glory, it is whole, it is divine—
Two hearts, unchained, forever intertwined.

i lie facedown on the train tracks.
the gravel presses symbols into my skin,
but none of them translate.

home is a concept with too many rooms.
i sharpened my alibi
on my mother’s brittle bones
until it fit into a quieter mouth.
she didn't flinch.

the sun unthreads me one fiber at a time.
nothing resists.
blink
blink
blink
each time, the world returns
slightly rearranged—
trees on the ceiling,
windows in my stomach.

i found a way out,
but it only leads back here.
the platform loops
in the shape of an open jaw.
i circled it three times,
then laid down between its metal teeth—
the world doesn’t bite anymore.
it just holds me.

small, warm,
still breathing.
regret nests in the hinge of my jaw.
i keep it clenched, and
it doesn’t protest.
it flicks the lights off
when the rail begins to sing.
it knows the schedule better than i do.

the daylight plucks at my ribs like harp strings.
each note sounds like a name i was never meant to hold.
i buried the moon weeks ago.
she made it difficult to leave.
if you’re still listening—
the train is already halfway through me.

today,
i let the mouth stay open.
maybe the scream will crawl back in.
maybe it never left.