By: Albine kirui Some hours are unholy for some stories, To narrate a story that happened one hour past midnight is a devilish story if not describing the stories of the nocturnal hyenas. No one can believe a story of a woman roaming after midnight looking for milk like a witch. Without blinking she narrated this story that happened past midnight, She never told us how she cuddled her husband to sleep, She never narrated the warmth of her matrimonial bed, She told us indirectly that her husband was naive and without reason, Which husband would let her wife roam at night looking for milk, when the milk man was only milking his cows in his dreams, This story of Jane was already soiled with blood, That she was sick past midnight was really the hangs man rope that winded on her neck without knowing. If she was really sick and her story was true, Her husband should have been the one worrying about milk for his sick wife. The unholy story ended sadly, Salomon never lived t
Dance all night long And practice yoga the next day. Drink wine but don't forget your green juice. Eat chocolate when your heart wants it And eat kale salad when your body needs it. Wear high heals on Saturday And walk barefoot on Sunday. Live high and low. Move and stay still. Embrace all sides of who you are. Be bold, Brave, Spontaneous, And loud, And let that complement your abilities To find silence, patience, peace And modesty. Aim for balance. Make your own rules and follow your own path. And let nobody tell you to live like them. Balance is the key. Be you. Bye bye!
I wanna write a poem One about a woman The daughter of my eldest wife The one I don't call by her name I wanna write a story One about my favourite person The one who only seems wrong When she makes things right I wanna write a song One about my source of motivation The one I don't point a finger at Nor exchange words with I wanna paint a picture One about my mother The only one whom my pain She feels
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