Presenting: Memoirs Of A Nigerian Teenage Girl [MNTG]

Words are weapons; weapons of mass destruction, and of classic construction. They speak volumes; through the thin walls of pages of books, whispering upon the barks of a Brazil-nut tree in the Brazil rain forest, and the baobab tree in the arid African deserts. This section of Rebel Flair is me lending my words for your reading enjoyment. This is my collation of poems and short stories, ringing like bells with definite truth, clothed with robes of wisdom, adorned with embellishments of verisimilitude, of credibility. These are my clear-as-crystal thoughts; these are my words.  
                                                                              - Ms. Koya [@taymie_GVO]

Memoirs Of A Nigerian Teenage Girl.
    Love Lost.
She walked to and fro with an undeniable grace, sashaying like a fairy on a cloud.
Beckoning to the interested crowd
Little smiles shining like stars in her eyes
She glowed like studded sapphires.
She was an embodiment of perfection,
Chosen amongst many, a worthy selection.
She looked into the audience, something catching her eye.
It was the look, that look, on his face, out of recognition and spite.
Taken through the vista of time, beyond gallops of space, and to that earth shattering moment of trite.
And then on her insides, came the mixture of feelings.
Insecurity, pain, agony, bitterness, all of it churning, fluttering like butterfly wings.
And so they fluttered, as her eyes closed like window shutters.
And then she fell, to the ground, like Lucifer fell to the Earth.
A gasp emanated and hushed over the audience,
A panicky feeling replaced the hitherto admiration and lust in the ambience.
And he, her lost love silently walked away.
She was revived, brought back to the land of the living.
And she wept, quiet racking sobs leaving tears and sweat glistening on her face.
As she quieted down and began to stare into oblivion called space.
Deeply harrowed cries tearing at her heart as she started searching.
She searched, frantically, for the one who had stolen her heart.
Stolen it and mercilessly tore it into little pieces and parts.
She couldn't find it, and as she slowly got to her feer.
She resolved to restart on a perfectly blank sheet.
After all, love lost is a better chance at eternal peace.


  1. Anonymous said...:

    I'm curious to find out what blog platform you happen to be utilizing? I'm having some small security problems with
    my latest blog and I'd like to find something more secure. Do you have any solutions?

    My blog post - this is great

Post a Comment