I feel like I been writing
Same things all along
Different words but it seems,
‘Tis the same poems
Others say I’m a bad influence
‘Cause I can’t tell whether Hell is real
They say I have too many questions
I tell them,
Questions enlighten more than the answers
The world is too dark,
It’s enough that we blind

What are names?
I’m trying to fathom tags
But only tales to spin
My thoughts are in circles
Still itching to think straight
Juggling the world on my shoulders,
Or perhaps the hands
A prisoner of me,
The only way out is in!!
They said the angel’s to the right,
The demon to the left,
Conscience and darkness,
But I’ll keep both in my hands
And keep my hands closed

I escape my shadow
Books are to me like a meadow
But I do not know me
Can no longer find me
Can no longer stand me
Loneliness killing I
Because friends are shoulders,
I just hanged mine
Teardrops can flood deserts too
And Fear cripples legends too
Perhaps I’m a dead man too
But who am I?
What am I?

Image Credit : WMFA

About Author

Mark Wandera is a freelance writer and a poetry blogger at www.theeayieko.wordpress.com. If he is not writing, you'll find him somewhere reading a book or music and STILL following Game of Thrones. Contact him on ayiekow07@gmail.com


  1. fanuel robert on

    I tried to decipher what’s happening to mark wanders the wizard and I got my answers right….He is a true legend in writing of poems and many more….nicenicebruh

  2. Chaiiii, i feel of the pain you’r passing through,
    i wept till tears made mockery
    of my face to drop no more,
    i remain silent in this ferral turbulence
    shipping my thought on the
    ferry of past battles.
    Baba, you are good try to edit the part
    the line 1 should be*have been*
    till i escape my shadow
    lonileness killing me.but this is thick

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