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The Beginning

He woke up when the day had just begun to show its face. He was with a swollen face and red eyes which is a result of sleeplessness and dry tears. He stood up so weak and disorganized, he began to proceed towards the flank of the room where the brown colored table had been placed. The table is as long as half of the table used for the ping pong game. On the table, there is a reading lamp, several textbooks, and other documents. On this same table is where his bag was placed . He stretched his hand
and fetched his bag, he opened it fastly and took out his pen and a book which looked as if it were a diary. He started writing out a piece in the book with tears dropping from his eyes. He wasn’t aware he deprived me of having a good night rest too and that I observed him throughout the night in his distress and restlessness. After he finished writing what he was writing In the book, he put the book in his bag and he returned the bag to the table. He came back to join me in bed. After some minutes, he slept off
as if what he had written in the book was a sleeping pill. I proceeded to his bag and took out the book which was indeed his diary, I ignored the other things he had written, I searched and reached out to the page where his last writing was done, I started reading what he woke up as early as that to write and I realized it was a poem. The poem goes thus;

Memories, The Real Killer

““`There in my bed in the night

I roll to the right, to the left, over and again 

Bad day, troubled evening, Sleepless night 

Tortured emotions and feelings, over and again 

Memories, the real killer! 

I thought you were meant for me

You being with me forever was what I thought 

I thought you were different 

Those were mere, rare fantasies!

Memories, the real killer!

You shattered my heart 

You brutally broke my world into crumbs 

You killed my dreams of being together with you forever 

Alas! I’m totally traumatized!

Memories, the real killer!

Why do I have to see you in everyone? 

Why do you appear to me even in my dreams? 

Why do the memories of everything we shared taunt me so much? 

Falling in love with you made my little world miserable!

Memories, the real Killer!

You’ve moved on, you’ve molded for yourself a new “sweet” world

After you played with my feeble heart and left me to the emptiness of the world!

You Foolishly forget that Karma is patiently waiting to strike you!

By then all you’ll have left are MEMORIES, then you will slowly die

Because Memories kill without drawing sword!“` “



Before I finished reading the poem, tears had already gathered in my eyes like a cloud-ready to pour down heavy rain. I could feel his pain, I realized he had just been jilted by his girlfriend whom he loved more than anything in this world, not even me his elder brother. I allowed him to sleep very well and he woke up when the day had already started ripening, his eyes were better than they were when he woke up the first time. He greeted me and I responded to his greeting with a very welcoming heart, it felt weird to him and from there he began to wonder what had happened to me that made me respond to his greetings that weird way. He teased me, he said, “Brother Jide, who don send money give you this morning, this one wey you just dey happy “. I grinned to his joke. Before he could leave the room, I called him and asked him what was wrong. I confessed to him that I had watched him throughout the night and that I had gone through his diary when he was asleep. At first, he gave me a look that read that he was totally displeased with the fact that I read his diary. I apologized to him and convinced him that I was only concerned about his well-being. He relaxed and started telling me his tales and the things I never knew about him. He said “Hmmmn, the big brother I have just been broken and shattered by the one I love the most in this world,” he sobbed. I placed my shoulder around his neck as if to assure him of his relief. He continued ” I had always been a full-time playboy (Casanova) all my life till I met this girl whose beauty struck the depth of my heart and she was able to do what no other girl could do. She got my heart beating deeply for true love for the first time, from that moment, all I dreamt of was her, all I wanted to do was to be with her, to talk to her, to have her wrapped in my arms always. Finally, I was able to win her over with my sugarcoated mouth after trying several times. We finally started dating, I never knew I was digging my own grave. I continued to love her more and more until I eventually became obsessed with her. My day became incomplete without having her in it. It was the evening of our first year dating anniversary when I had gone to her hostel with the gifts I got for her for our anniversary. I had not reached her room before I started hearing her voice moaning and making some pleasurable cries which depicts someone who was getting satisfied sexually at that moment. I was curious and I rushed to her room, without hesitation I broke into her room and I was left in the deepest shock of my life when I saw my best friend almost naked and my girlfriend all naked. I couldn’t bear the pain and the anger I felt at that moment, I just left before the anger could make me kill someone. The saddest part was that my girlfriend never allowed us to have sex, assuring me that it was until we get married that we would have sex and that by then, she would be ready to give me her virginity, I never knew it was all deceit. She played me all along, she collected my monthly allowance and I willingly gave it to her, she made me pay her bills even to the extent that I used my tuition fees for this session to buy her goodies,

we went out each day to have fun, we went out to different malls, different cinema houses, different pools, different clubs, and parties. We had the best time together that I even forgot about every other thing including my studies but only her. In the end, I never realized I was getting played all along by her and my best friend. I broke down and I began to think about my life before I met her, it was then that I
realized that I had once gotten involved in this kind of scenario too and that it all seemed as if it were a
payback time for me. I had once cheated on one of my ex-girlfriends with her best friend, and she was broken to the extent that she almost killed herself. It dawned on me that, “what goes up surely comes
down.” Karma was there to remind me of that. A playboy like me got played!… Now I am broken. My world has been shattered and left in crumbs. I am dying day after day”. When he finished talking, he looked at me and started shedding tears
I was trying hard to control mine even when I was trying to console him and wipe his own tears. Indeed,
What goes up must surely come down I whispered to myself. It was him who used to play girls and hurt their feelings, now it was his turn to go through the same emotional agony.
I consoled him and told him that, all would be well and that time heals almost everything if not everything. I told him with time he would heal up and be fine again, but he should never hurt anyone
again ever, “Life is full of ups and downs, and whatever goes up must surely come down and Karma is
real!” Was my closing remark for him.

The Conclusion

All hope not lost!
After my closing remark, he felt bad and sober but I could see an effect of being relieved of his burdens in his face. It was not that easy for him to move on, but I did my best to make him realize that there is more to life than just giving up on life and himself. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. When it was close to a year that he had gone through the terrible experience of the heartbreak, he had improved so much. I realized he always wears glamorous looks and he is always smiling. My brother has turned to a decent young boy and his passion for writing has increased. He is always focusing on how to get better in life, rather than always busy chasing “baes” as he fondly calls them.
It was on a beautiful Sunday evening when my brother came to me at the corner of the room where I always rehearse on my piano. I had never seen him that happy before. He willingly showed me his most recent poem which he told me he wrote just before we went for the morning mass. He started reading the poem to me…

How would I know?

“`It’s been decades 

It’s been ages 

Since I last had a good breath

I never imagined my life being perfect without You!

All I did was waging wars against the weak me!

I got up on a Sunny Sunday 

I thoroughly threw away my burdens 

You!, my weakness was washed off the sand of my world!

I created a cute adorable world for myself!

All I did was waging wars against the weak me!

The Sun smiles sweetly at me

The wind dances swiftly to the new tune of my beat! 

The waves with my chords compose new rhythms!

The Cloud conceived pain just to bear me the drops of blessings 

All I did was waging wars against the weak me!

Letting you go, opened new doors 

The best people came into my life 

They gave me a completely new world

A world where words are true! 

All I did was waging wars against the weak me!

I finally fully forgot about you

I was a fool to think that you own all of me

I never noticed that you don’t even deserve a place in my heart!

Now I’m happy, yeah I’m free like a bird! 

But how would I have known it would be this tasty without you?“`



I was left in awe!, before he could finish reading the poem to me. Not only was I thrilled of his encouraging words, but I was also swept off my feet by his artistic use of Alliteration and some other figurative expressions to add aesthetic to his poem. I gave him a big hug and patted his back. He moved on, at last, he never gave up. He kept on fighting day after day. I am happy for him because he learned his lessons in a hard way. I learned a lesson too, “Do not give up too soon”.



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Maruf Ajimatihttps://marsteinnews.com
Maruf Ajimati is the Chief Editor of the Marstein News which is aimed at publishing both local and international information in a justified, and accurate manner in the Federal Republic of Nigeria.

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    • What sucks?… I respect perspectives and opinions though, but if you mean that the fact that there are poems in between sucks, well, could be your opinion, but I feel that’s the writer’s choice, and the writer’s style. Style is what differentiates a writer from another. I however find it pleasing and amusing that the writer could use it as a medium to express his poetic prowess also.

  1. Hmmmmmmmn, not so bad,nice use of imagery in the first part…Also, I think the writer loves alliteration
    because he uses it the most in the poems. The idea of Poems in between is actually cool to me though. Style
    is everything.


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