Ayanna Huie-Manneh muses on her life and the impermanence of human existence
I’m crying for no other but myself Sobbing at my own grave, I lay tulips and wildflowers by the cold stone Engraved it states all my wrong doings and hard done bys
Not used to comfort from a figure of nurture So this is how I nurture myself Made to feel guilty for building A fortress under my covers Feeling safe in my discontent Why commit to tasks when I can pity in my bed
Yesterday holds promises I’ll never keep Just like tomorrow, I’ll apologise to my reflection Attempt to forgive myself for lying and lying Trying but never daring to leave my cosy cabin of despair So in cursive letters and midnight ink I write the invitations and fold them away
Off they fly like paper planes Written on airborne paper An invitation to my end Not for now or later, but for always It seems as though it’s scribed in the stars That I’m destined to die from self-inflicted battle scars
And I know, I know, I know that I’d be late to my own funeral I’d take five steps forward, end up five miles away Late to sob at my own grave.
Ayanna is student at Woodhouse College. She studies English literature, Philosophy and Sociology. Passionate about writing and the power of words; she is keen to share her ideas with the world.