Bella Poesia

I woke up to the buzzing of busy houseflies. The evil greenish black creatures hovering round my parents‘ lifeless bodies hungrily. I do not know how long I was out for or how I got downstairs from my vantage position at the gallery but the stench that emanated from their decaying body was nauseating. Whatever happened that night was gory, their bodies told the story quite elaborately. Chopped fingers and cigarette burns, a torn pelvic region on my stepmother, a bashed skull, dried blood and the dining table and sticky blood all over the Italian marble. Scarface’s voice echoed in my head and flashes of the multiple rape sessions reeled sketchily in my memory. The screams of both my parents jeered my nerves as I slowly recollected and the last image of my father was the anguish in his eyes as they met mine squarely. I am not sure if he saw me but that bitter look overwrote any other memory of my father I had. It was a night of pure torture on his side and excitement on m...

Medical school was the best and worst time of my life. It initiated me into this life I now found myself. It’s either a good or bad thing depending on how you look at it but for me, it was,  and still is a good thing. I witnessed someone die in my arms for the first time. I saw and did terrible things that I’m ashamed to write about. I did my first dissection and surgery. I pretty much kept to myself because I was socially awkward as most of the students described me. Nobody wanted to be my friend until Kanyinsola waltzed into my life. She was an exceptionally beautiful of Yoruba girl in every definition. Her crystal clear brown eyes were so piercing that I feared they could unravel your deepest secrets.  Her sophisticated sense of fashion was second to none. She was a definition of "way out of my league and yet she walked up to me one my first day in school. She's responsible for my social evolution. She was from a rich family and could afford to take me to fancy places ...