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THE CRY OF A TEENAGER


That day, i took my first cry outside my heart, it dawn on me that I was only being me without fear squiggling me. 
My paparazzi courage was all I could hold on to as i imagined 
Mama readjusting her fleshy butts on Papa's twenty minus one year old cushion. I saw Papa shun his dangling curiosity as he paid attention to all I had to say.
Yes! There are many truth about me I like to turn to questions and who will answer them if not Papa and Mama? I had come to know even before my shadow mocked their crushes. But I just have to ask when exactly they will know the truth about this repressing utopian scale they at all time want me to scale through? At what point will they understand I'm no longer a toddler but a strutter who is in need of cautioning not carrying?
Abi dey cannot see that I have grown to become that human being who requires approach in place of reproach? They just haven't learned that my imperfections which now they count as their shame can also be all I need to be famous. Can't change be encompassing in their thoughts towards me and trust, a weapon of inheritance in my engagement with peers?
I just hope that one day, maybe today, they will see my inner pain and rebellious hatred when they shun me and insist that all my thoughts embrace silence as their become the orator. 
 How I wish they will value my worth and hang their signals for me to disengage each time I insist on voicing my point-of-view on the matter at hand.If only I had the talisman to make them stop the "no no" responses they dashed me countlessly, and give them the white head wisdom of- CONTINUE I'M LISTENING STRATEGY which remains equator of both my reasons and their reasons for doing what we did separately, I will redream this dream of freedom over and over again before the real drama begins again.

Written By Oluwaseyi Damilola Ogunojuwo
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