Category: Poetry

This includes Author of pain’s original poetry.

AOP, Poetry

The Alchemist of Ink

Author of pain

He sits in a warm, gold-washed room, dark glasses hiding his eyes—
not for style, but to shield the weight he carries inside.
His shirt hangs loose, books piled around him like tired guards,
while he tries to map the human heart and all its quiet fractures.

People call him the author of pain, not out of insult,
but because he names the storms everyone else pretends aren’t there.
He dips his pen into the darker shades of feeling—
the anxious grey, the heavy silence—
and writes the words so many have never managed to say.

For the boy who barely speaks,
for the girl who hasn’t slept in days,
for the mind that spins with worry
and the sadness buried out of sight—
he builds a small refuge made of paper and words,
a place where the weight feels lighter for a moment.

Readers find him everywhere—cities, villages, distant coasts—
turning pages just to feel less alone,
to see their shadows reflected honestly.
He reminds them that brokenness isn’t a flaw we hide,
but a thread we all share in one way or another.

Behind those dark glasses, does he cry for all he’s learned?
Does he carry the thorns so he can hand out the rose?
He spills himself into every line,
turning hurt into something strangely beautiful—
the author who takes our pain and helps us breathe again.
The “author of pain”—not because he creates it,
but because he helps us survive it.

AOP, Poetry

Breaking Free

Author of pain

I love the calm I feel when you rest,
But your weight is crushing, and your grip so tight,
I’m suffocating under your endless fight.

You whisper worries, of all that could go wrong,
And I’m trapped in your web, where fear dwells,
And I’m drowning in my own tears,
In this dark anxious space.

But i’m done with the darkness, pain and the strain,
I’ll break free from your grasp,
Stepping into the light you’ve tried to shield away from me,
Where Peace and calm unfold.

Farewell my dearest,
But I’ll not be held captive night and day no more,
Your whispers will get to me no more,
As well as your taunts and might.
I’ll shine with a light, that’ll overcome your darkest of nights.
I love you to death my dear anxiety,
But I can’t spend the rest of my life in this darkness,
So I’m done.

AOP, Poetry

Pretty African Girl

Author of pain

Oh, pretty African girl with skin like polished ebony,
Your beauty shines bright like the African sun,
Your eyes sparkle like diamonds in the night,
And your smile is as warm as a summer breeze.

Oh, pretty African girl, with your graceful poise,
You walk with grace, like a gazelle in the wild,
Your presence commands attention wherever you go,
A vision of beauty and grace that captivates all who behold you.

Your voice, a melody that dances on the wind,
Rich with the rhythm of your ancestors,
Your laughter like music, in the stillness of the night,
A reminder of the power and resilience of your people.

Oh, pretty African girl, with your spirit so wild and free,
You are a beacon of hope and inspiration,
A symbol of strength and beauty in a world that seeks to dim your light,
But you shine brighter than ever, a radiant star in the African night.

So here’s to you, pretty African girl,
May you always walk with pride and grace,
May your beauty shine like the stars in the sky,
And may your spirit always soar high.

AOP, Poetry

Call me anything but a failure.

Author of pain

It feels like my life is one big circle,
I’m trying to go forward
But I’m on reverse mode,
Time is telling me my only remedy is
Time.
If that’s true why do i kill myself
Trying to prove I’m no failure?
I do things I’m not proud of,
Made promises that i walked out on,
And i feel i don’t deserve love.
So you can call me what you want
Just don’t call me a failure.
I know I’ve had some,
I’ve felt like one sometimes,
Won’t deny that
But just don’t call me a failure.
My biggest fear in life is knowing that i never tried,
But each time i try
I just end up feeling like another failure,
But i get afraid of not trying at all.
If you go through my mental notes,
You’ll think I’m just a lost cause,
I understand that cause i feel the same way sometimes,
But my biggest failure
Is knowing that i never tried,
So whenever i see an opportunity next,
I’ll chase it and try again.
And if it goes south,
And you call me a failure,
Just know that I’ll still be here,
Standing on my two feets,
Looking for the next one.
So you can call me all names,
Just don’t call me a failure.

AOP, Poetry

Ramadan: A Month Of Blessings.

Author of pain

In the month of Ramadan,
When the world grows still,
And the faithful observe,
The fast with their complete will.

From dawn to dusk they abstain,
From food and drink and pleasure,
And turn their hearts to Allah,
With devotion beyond measure.

For thirty days they pray,
And give to those in need,
Fasting for the sake of God,
And following His creed.

It is a time of sacrifice,
And reflection on one’s deeds,
To seek forgiveness and mercy,
And fulfill one’s spiritual needs.

And as the month draws to a close,
Eid arrives in all its grace,
A time of joy and celebration,
With love filling every space.

Ramadan, a month of blessings,
A time to renew our faith,
May we strive to be better,
And find Allah’s loving embrace.

AOP, Poetry

Things I Had

Author of pain

Dear life,
Hi, its me again.
I know in my numerous previous poems,
I had talked about how you were never going to see me fall,
I talked about how i was always gonna stand tall,
Even when you try to make me fall.
I’ve always been a victim of your bad side,
For all I’ve ever known
Is nothing but pains.
You’ve seen me fall many a times,
But you never saw me cry,
That’s how strong I’ve been.
For i fought with every single drop of blood in me.
Guess i really did fought with every drop of blood in me,
Cause the heart beat in my chest feels weak tonight.
Guess this is the final goodbye,
Dear life guess you finally won,
This is my end.
I don’t see any reason for me not to take my life anymore.
This is the end of my road.

But before i leave you,
O cruel world,
I will make a list of the things i had.
Know if I’ll be missed or forgotten,
And prolly know if being alive is still worth it.
So this is a list of the things i had ;
I had a caring family,
That loved me to the moon and back,
A family that gave its all just to see the best of me.
A family that sacrificed it’s all,
Just to see a smile on my face.
Do i pay this family back with suicide?
Or what about the friends i had,
That supported me physically, emotionally and mentally,
The real gees,
The friends that were there,
When family could not.
How selfish of me will it be,
To cause them pains by ending my life,
To gain eternal peace?
Will there ever be an eternal peace for me,
Hurting and breaking their hearts
By committing suicide.
Some had legs but could not walk,
Some had eyes but could not see,
Some had ears but could not hear.
I had all these and they worked perfectly fine.

I had thought i had no reasons not to take my life,
But the little things i had,
Which i overlooked,
We’re the reasons i could ever need,
Not to end my life.
So dear life,
It’s me again.
You might have won again,
But this is not the end of me,
For the things i had are far more greater than those
I didn’t.
And for the things i had,
I’ll keep on fighting.

AOP, Poetry

I Was That Kid

Author of pain

The other boys always laughed at me,
The kid that always sits at the back of the class.
The one with
his head down,
to conceal his lost frown. The one whose confusion led to
All the students intrusion.
I was that kid.
My tears was the other boys fun,
they most enjoyed teasing me of my attire.
As they ridiculed me and called me names,
I hid my face in great shame.
The bruises on my skin were not punishments for my own skins,
but they were cruelty for my differences,
and the consequences of my existence.
I was that kid.
I couldn’t concentrate on my studies as it was me vs the rest,
because I knew what
They’d do when they found me in the hall.
The teachers says I obviously didn’t try.
But they don’t know I break down and cry when I’m alone.
I did put in effort,
I did my part; maybe I was not just smart.
Then came the pressure from family, who were so clearly disappointed that my grades were bad.
I was punished,
And picked on for the rest of the year,
because I gave up on my future.
The worst part was not that I was a disappointment.
It was the permanent,
Never ending embarrassment of always failing,
of never being good enough.
I was left alone, no one cared about me.
Why remain in a world that cares not for me?
So i began to think,
Then i decided to give up on life itself and
Leave this cruel world and its cruelty
But i guess i was a disappointment to even death itself,
As it also rejected,
So now I’m stuck in a world,
Where i can never be good enough,
Where i am nothing but a disappointment.
I am that kid.

AOP, Poetry

Life Won Again

Author of pain
If you need someone to talk to or you need advice, then talk to God cause he’s the only one that listens even when you think he isn’t.

Dear life,
I have always quetched about me being strong,
I would always ignore your despairs and count my blessings,
I had said to myself,
Life is tough but I am tougher,
Now I don’t know who is tougher.
I have never hated you like I do right now,
Cause all you ever do is make me cry.
Whenever I pass by,
People always say;
“there goes the one who lost his virginity at birth,
For life had started fucking him up at birth”
Dear life I know you don’t want me around anymore,
You might have won again,
But this is not the end.
You may see my cry,
But you won’t see me fall,
You can throw all you got at me,
But you’ll never see me fall.
Even though you keep on winning,
You’ll never see me fall.

Dear God,
Hi it’s me.
I know I’ve been far from you my whole life,
I’ve never needed you like I do right now,
For my whole life is crushing down and,
The heart beat in my chest feels weak,
But I don’t wanna die yet,
I just wanna find my peace.
Cause all that surrounds me are traumas,
Life won again.

AOP, Poetry

12 AGAIN

Author of pain

Wish I could be 12 again
Cause back then there were no pains
The only pains I felt
Were the bruises from playing in the field,
And the pains from losing a game.
But now the bruises from the field don’t hurt me no more.
But depressions and anxiety
They hurt me so bad.

Wish I could be 12 again
Cause back then the only person I loved was myself
So no one could hurt me so bad
But now each day,
A different hurt from a different person anew,
When I was 12
The only problem I had
Was how to get my uniforms clean for school
But now I face the problem
Of having to live with anxiety,
And dealing with depressions.

If I can be 12 again,
I’m gonna live the moment to the fullest,
Cause those were the last days,
Where I was happy but I wasn’t acting
Those were the days where I used to smile,
Those were the days where anxiety and depressions
Were only words to me.

~ Author of pain

AOP, Poetry

OUR INFECTIOUS SMILE

Author of pain
Smile, It’s Sunnah

Smiling is infectious,
You catch it like the flu,
When someone smiled at us today,
We started smiling too.
We passed around the corner and someone saw our grin,
When he smiled,
We realized we’d passed it on to him.
We thought about that smile
Then we realized it’s worth.

A single smile just like ours,
Could travel round the earth,
So if you feel a smile begin,
Don’t leave it undetected,
Let’s start an epidemic quick,
And get the world infected.

Remember folks,
The best form of love and kindness,
You can give to one another,
Is just a simple smile.
Cause it takes just a single smile,
To make a dark day,
Seem bright.

Keep smiling!!!

AOP, Poetry

MENTAL NOTE

Author of pain

You all ever got this feeling,
Like you think you know it all,
And then out of the blues,
In just one moment,
That special moment,
You realized that you’ve been wrong all along.
I had always thought,
That I’m the Author of pain,
Cause I’ve always been a victim of this pain,
When asked, why choose Author of pain,
I always said;
I didn’t choose the name,
It choose me.
Maybe I’m always comfortable being sad,
Maybe no matter how hard I tried,
I’ll always be a victim of this pain.
Everything’s gonna be fine
My therapist always said,
But nothing ever seem fine with me.

This made me lock the door of happiness,
I destroyed the door of love,
I choose solitude over intimacy,
I traded my joy for my protection,
Because all intimacy ever brought to me,
Was nothing but more pains,
Or so I thought?

But in that one moment,
When I opened the door of happiness and love,
When I picked intimacy over solitude,
Then in that moment,
I saw things for what they actually were,
I’m Author of pain not because,
I am addicted to pains,
Nor was I a victim of these pains,
I am Author of pain,
Not because I was comfortable being sad,
But because I was a master of it,
I could turn your pains into happiness,
I can show you millions a reason,
Why the pains you might be going through is not the end of you,
With my words,
I could heal you of all your pains,
With my poetry,
I can turn your pains,
To your mental Notes.

AOP, Poetry

OUR FAVOURITE SONG

Author of pain

OUR FAVOURITE SONG

I wish i could see you one more time,
Just hearing your name makes me realize,
How much meaning you added to my life.
Each time i try to forget about you and move on,
Our favourite song comes up on the radio,
And listening to it alone,
Makes me realize just how much I miss you.
I dream of hearing your voice everyday,
But reality dawns a rainy day,
And now I’m,
Sadness, tears and blues.
I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,
But death gave you no choice,
Snatching you away from me.
Your soul appears to me everyday,
Telling me everything is fine and i should move on,
But i wish i was dead,
So we could listen to our favorite song together,
In a better place.

– Author Of Pain.

AOP, Poetry

This Heart’s Last Words

Author of pain

This Heart’s Last Words.

I just want to run away,
To a place that feels safe,
A place where my past can’t hunt me,
To a place where I’d be free from all this traumas.

The heartbeat in my chest is starting to feel weak,
I can feel it fading away,
And the only cure for this
Is finding that place,
Where the bad days doesn’t come as often
As this,
Where I don’t have to be afraid of my thoughts,
A place where I can be free.

Just be yourself, everyone says
But just being myself,
Has brought me nothing,
But depressed mornings, lonely afternoons and sad nights.
This might be the last words of my weak heart,
For the heartbeat in my chest feels weakest tonight,
So weak, it can’t live to see,
Yet another day.

©AOP

AOP, Guest, Poetry

Close Your Eyes And Let Us Prey.

Author of pain
Its time to Prey!!!

Madams! close your eyes!
Pick your axe!
and let us prey on those Adams:

Who forcefully took off our clothes,
tasted our honeypots, denied us of our crimson joy
and leave us to shrink in the cold blood of despair.


Madams!! close your eyes!
and let’s fill this cup,
with the blood of those herdsmen:
who made us battle with loneliness in the warmth of our bed
Who suddenly turns our children into overnight Abíkú and
Sees massacre as a panacea to replacing their cattle.
Madams!!close your eyes!
and let’s prey on those Adams;
Who pushed our sisters into the icy hands of death
Who uses their physical strength as an instrument of oppression on
and uses the Holy book to back up their claims.


Madams!!close your eyes!
and let’s prey on those Adams:
Who made us fall into the ditch of love and intimacy.
Met us as singles and
ran like Usain Bolt after making us double.
Madams!!close your eyes!
and let’s prey on those Adams:
Who walked us to the aisle and loved us to the moon,
when we still had the hour glass shape.
But,
now dread our present presence,
Because, we are now as big as an elephant.
Madams!!close your eyes!
Pick your axe!
and let’s fill this cup with the blood of those Adams:
Who we stayed and suffered with,
during their ugly and bitterleaf times and
took another Madam in,
during their beautiful and honey times.
Madams!! Close your eyes,
I know we have sinned,
But, God forgives sinners.
Just pray to him
to allow those Adams whose,
lives we have preyed on,
Now rest in perfect peace

DEDICATED TO ALL THE WIDOWS, ORPHAN GIRLS AND RAPE VICTIMS.

ABIKU

Abiku refers to the spirits of children who die before reaching puberty; a child who dies before twelve years of age being called an Abiku, and the spirit, or spirits, who caused the death being also called Abiku.