tipape matayo
Member Since: 1 year ago
Smiling Faces, Silent Battles: The Invisible Storm of Depression
It's not seen. It’s the silence between breaths. The invisible ache masked by "I’m okay." It slips behind smiles, Shadows behind laughter that sounds too rehearsed. It’s tiredness no sleep cures, It’s hunger with no appetite, It’s loneliness even in company. I pen this with love, For those whose eyes shine yet minds dim, Whose hearts smile but faces bleed. Those drowning, not in oceans, but in thought. Those who’ve mastered the art of showing up, Even when their souls beg to withdra...
SUICIDE: A Poem on Darkness, Survival, and Choosing to Stay
Born into a world that never asked, A silent scream behind every mask. The days grow heavy, the nights too long, A fragile heart, a broken song. Pain whispers softly, yet cuts so deep, A restless mind that cannot sleep. The mirror reflects a stranger’s face, Lost in the void, seeking a place. What if the stars were never meant to shine? What if this life was never truly mine? The thought of escape, a tempting call, To end the climb, to finally fall. But in the dark...
the deserted family on the streets
To class I was goin' In the wee hours of the day The lectures were long and tiring But to the end.sweeten Way back home; then I saw A mom, Three children, An infant. Their luggage with them. I passed by The time like yesterday, today I found the same family. Famished they look, And thirsty too Like nobody else I passed by The humane has died; Like everyday they're there The same spot,the same hopeless looks Then today was unique The luggage untied The rag stretch The two smalls lied Touched! ...
THE WAILS
#poetry THE WAILS Then I heard the cries. On Television, newspaper,radio... Murder: Death, This lass, that lass killed and not killed but killed brutally. Then I saw the faces of parents the 'victimed' and the ' unvictimed'. Fear,Anguish reigned; The heart of every adult with a girl Then I heard them, "handsomely they promise a pretty amount" the prey--kenyan ladies became in AirBnB happy are the predators in two months My Country WAILED Mourned The year started with mourns. STOP FEMICIDE ...
ANXIETY: battle within
ECHOES of UNSEEN It comes not loud, but soft and slow, A whisper in the mind’s shadow. No warning signs, no flashing light, Just breath that flees and chest pulled tight. It wears no face, it speaks no name, Yet every thought it twists with shame. It turns the mirror into war, And locks the self behind a door. It tells you lies in gentle tones: “You’re not enough,” “You’re all alone.” It paints the world in shades of fear, And makes your heartbeat disappear. Crowds become ocea...
LOVE hurts but it's INEVITABLE. we got no choice
🅝︎🅞︎ 🅛︎🅞︎🅥︎🅔︎ Hearts run red— spilled across thoughts I cannot gather. Mind too sharp, slicing myself with critique. I hang in silence, gripping air, while the world chants: _"Leave her alone."_ But how can I? Am I too much? Too expectant? Too desperate to be what she’ll never need? The heart kneels— a fragile worshiper at her altar. Her name echoes, yet never rhymes with mine. She is sacred, and I am the trespasser. _"I am someone else's property,"_ her...
🔁 tipape matayo ReCircled: “Silent suffering Shoulders: The Weight of Manhood on a Fatherless Boy”
A BOY IN SAVANNAH Born to shackles, not of iron or steel, but of circumstance— invisible chains forged in silence, tightened by poverty, by absence, by the cruel indifference of fate. Lucky Dube was right. “Born to suffer,” he sang, and the boy— barefoot in the dust of the savannah— knows this truth not from lyrics, but from the ache in his bones and the hunger in his belly. A boy, self-taught, not by books, but by the harsh curriculum of survival. His classroom: a leaking roof, a...
“Silent suffering Shoulders: The Weight of Manhood on a Fatherless Boy”
A BOY IN SAVANNAH Born to shackles, not of iron or steel, but of circumstance— invisible chains forged in silence, tightened by poverty, by absence, by the cruel indifference of fate. Lucky Dube was right. “Born to suffer,” he sang, and the boy— barefoot in the dust of the savannah— knows this truth not from lyrics, but from the ache in his bones and the hunger in his belly. A boy, self-taught, not by books, but by the harsh curriculum of survival. His classroom: a leaking roof, a...
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