I am a Dreamer

I am unrealistic

I am impractical

I am a dreamer

I dream of a world where the only red thing staining the streets

are rose petals.

I dream of a society where who you love is not more important than the fact that

We will be the cause of the Earth’s destruction.

I dream of a world where happily ever afters are not so unbelievable that

they only exist in fairy tales.

I dream of a world where girls are not criticized because of

how much skin they show, or what they wear.

I dream of a place where women can just breastfeed their children in peace!

I dream of a society that does not make rape the victim’s fault.

They are never asking for it.

I dream of a world where people are taught to respect another’s body,

not beat it black and blue.

I dream of a world where boys are not held to a standard of being

strong, unfeeling, and tough “men”.

Let boys be boys or WHATEVER they want to be.

I dream of a world where a headscarf or turban does not define yours

and your children’s lives.

I dream of a world where my decision to bring a child into this world is

not dictated by MEN in power.

I dream of a world where society is not so cruel that

people draw paintings on their skin, with a blade, ending it all.

I dream of a society where all our hopes are not blown away

like a dandelion in the hands of a toddler.

I dream of a world where EVERYONE is cherished, loved, and accepted.

Society tells me that I am unrealistic.

Society tells me that I am impractical.

Society tells me that I am a dreamer.


Did I Ask?

By: Abisola Fashakin

Did I ask to be “ugly” and “fat”? Did I ask to be sarcastic, fucked up, and “harsh”? Did I ask to be a crazy, weird, unhinged proletariat? Did I ask for my body to be sawed open to save myself from my tainted appendix? Did I ask to be isolated, oppressed and scared? Did I ask to have 2 working parents who come home like a mouse barely escaping the clutches of a cat? Did I ask to constantly feel tortured as if I was fettered to red-hot shackles as my vision grew blurry? Did I ask for the mother of my mother and the father of my father to be dead? No. But I guess you didn’t ask to be a bitch. You didn’t ask to have a hypocritical “aristocrat” for a father and a soundless dunce for a mother. You didn’t ask to have a “food problem”. You didn’t ask to have your heart broken over and over again, and to feel like hope was just a fabrication made by your ill invented nightmare. We didn’t ask. But I guess by some twisted rule of fate we both deserved it.


By: Abisola Fashakin

This word is what defines me as a person. It’s what other people see me as. I’m fine with it, but as a kid I thought being weird was the coolest. Now when people call someone weird it’s in whispered conversation. They say it like it’s some kind of curse. Anyone called weird should not be ashamed. It’s just like any other word maybe even more special. I am proud that I’m weird. If that makes me an outcast so be it. I want to be able to be me without being judged. Maybe I talk a lot, and I don’t know all the latest trends, but so what? If that makes me weird then so be it. I’m fine being the weirdest kid in school because even they call me weird all I hear is, “Good job for being you,”. So anytime someone calls you weird look them right in the eye and say “Thank You!”.

“Defiance is just a way of telling people that you know what you want and you’ll stop at nothing to get it”

-Abisola F.image


By: Abisola F.

Violence has a greater impact on society. It creates deep wounds that even the most

compassionate person can not solve. Compassion can only go so far. Compassion creates help.

Help saves lives. But not everyone can be helped. While you show your compassion to help a

little girl, a young man is dying. Will compassion really help while people are dying by the

hands of another? We try to show our compassion wherever we are, but the truth is violence

will never go away. Violence is here to stay.

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