I love writing. poems, books, blogs, check out my stories on wattpad. my username is Miriel_Oye thank you.

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  • miriel_oye 5w

    No Longer

    Does she know?
    That I'm slipping away,
    Like rubbery ducks in a bath,
    A blurry memory in the past,

    Sometimes I catch her staring,
    At me,
    Perhaps wondering,
    When I grew old enough to lie,
    Old enough to hide behind smiles,
    Airy laughs,
    When I learned to cover weakness,
    With jokes and self jabs,
    To keep her from worrying,
    To conceal my worrying,

    She must wonder,
    How I face the world with such a tiny body,
    Why I haven't drowned,
    Why my head still floats,

    She must wonder,
    If I have reached the point,
    Where life shifts from a ride to a chase,
    Where problem adorn me like a choke necklace,

    I see it in her eyes that she knows that,
    When I laugh, I giggle and I speak another lie,
    No longer will her little girl ask,
    "When I grow older, what will I be?"

  • miriel_oye 8w

    Something About The Rain

    There is something about walking in the rain,
    Your feelings come on and off with the umbrella,
    Eyes drip with either tears or water,
    There is something about walking in the rain,
    Together, there is laughter and festering attraction,
    Alone? loneliness, longing or something of both,
    There is something about walking in the rain,
    When the torrents pour down,
    They either drown you or the pain,
    There is something about walking in the rain,
    In open fields, a will to die or stay alive,
    On tarred roads, a need to find and be home,
    There is something about walking in the rain,
    Contented, you're an extension of wild droplets,
    Broken, you're a victim of beating guilts,
    There is something about walking in the rain,
    You're human, you discover,
    Whole or shattered,
    The world still spins and the rain still falls.

  • miriel_oye 15w

    These Grown Up Things

    The years are a whirlwind away,
    And the lamp in the kitchen dulls everyday,
    Family didn't matter much when the days were young -Maybe they did
    But we took for granted,
    And like a dream we didn't notice that the house we built,
    Was falling apart,

    Somehow the lines on their faces are deeper,
    My folks aren't getting younger,
    And soon they'll need my weak young hands,
    To guide them to an aged bath,
    Why does the time tick and tock so fast,
    Like a sled in the open vast,

    Eyes need to focus,
    But something shakes my compass and my Ship loses course,
    Emotions pulse through my veins,
    I want to feel, love and pain,
    But this world wants the strong,
    And there is no time to test and be wrong,

    What do I really want?
    Admist this hunger for recognition, fame and protection?
    Would I prefer a pauper's loving arms,
    To the Cold one's riches?
    Why does my heart crave the flame that licks on my skin,
    As feelings cloud my pupils,

    Where do I hit the pause button,
    In this spinning wheel?
    These Grown Up Things,
    Run around my head.
    ~I'm not Ready yet~

  • miriel_oye 15w

    I Feel Like July

    I feel like July,
    The bright sun makes you realize,
    Half the year has gone by,
    And the goals and plans are at an impossible mile,

    I feel like July,
    The world resumes when it arrives,
    Like paparazzi to the one in the limelight,
    When June slowly fades out of sight,
    They say "I'll be better in July",

    I feel like July,
    The burden is as high as the skies,
    I want to forget it all and close my eyes,
    Find relief in places I'll hide,
    But what is a world without July?

    Miriel Oye

  • miriel_oye 19w

    Dry Eyed

    The sky has a secret message for those who believe in phases. One day you can be full of black clouds that bring you rain and other days, you will be clear and blue.
    Sometimes the sun will sprinkle some orange hue on you, other times it glares a pale yellow of disapproval in your face.
    Mama learnt this the hard way. That life worked in stages. While sometimes it gave reasons to soar wings across the blue expanse, It also sends lightning across grey clouds that burn the wings and remind mere mortals of their place.
    It seemed, from what I recall, that the sky always wept when Mama was alive. When they placed her into calloused hands that only knew how to draw heaps and harvest yams. When she writhed in agony and pushed out a replica of her- dark eyes and matted brown hair. When the hands that caressed her turned and kissed her face with slaps.
    Sometimes, just sometimes, the sun would peek through the darkness and the oranges in our garden would brighten up, but then roaring clouds roll in and choke out thriving seeds of joy and satisfaction.
    Ironic. That the moment Mama faded like stars in broad daylight, the sky watched dry eyed and the sun stayed for longer.

  • miriel_oye 19w

    Word Prompt:

    Write a 3 word micro-tale on Identity

    Read More

    Lose your mask

  • miriel_oye 19w


    These eyes in the mirror sing sad songs,
    Murmur quiet words,
    "I'm not weak,
    I'm not broken,
    I am more"
    These lies I speak to my armour,
    Bite back where it hurts,
    This facade is a phantom that shifts,
    Changes, morphs,
    And when only the moon watches,
    It falls,
    "I am weak,
    I am broken,
    I'm not more",
    These thoughts come like the plague,
    As I fight the itch to be vague,
    To pretend,
    The itch to lie to no one but myself,
    I'll wait,
    For daylight to peak through flowery curtains,
    Quiet sad eyes to shine,
    And new words murmured,
    "I am weak,
    I am broken,
    I can be more",
    And there my armour fades like the sound of a flushed toilet.

  • miriel_oye 97w

    Many times

    There are no mistakes.
    There are just good decisions and poor choices.


  • miriel_oye 97w

    Son Of Adam... Daughter Of Eve

    There was nothing,
    in the dark,

    Just two souls wandering,
    In an oceanic ruse,

    Was that a scream?,


    Maybe not,

    Maybe it's the sound of two world's clashing,


    When hands yearn to hold,
    But fingers touch,
    And whisper instead,

    Soft wisps of paradise,
    In forgotten gloom,

    Too precious,
    Too sweet,
    The taste of the forbidden drips from your lips,

    Let us stow away,

    To lofty realms,
    Away from earthern hearts and ribs,

    I am a daughter of Eve,
    And you, a son of Adam.

  • miriel_oye 121w



    Everyone longs for freedom,
    We crave, thirst,
    And still don't get it,
    I guess freedom is so costly,
    It remains free in our minds,
    Like a bird escaping out of a cage into the snapping jaws of another,
    How Free-Dom is the essence of being free,
    And being free in reality isn't necessarily freedom.