Number 50: Growing up amongst other things


One day I woke up
Same eyelids opened
Drank from the same cup
My biscuit from last night still crumbled

But I could still feel something
Something amiss, something different
It wasn’t physical, nothing I could see
But like a presence one I sensed

I looked in the mirror. I had the same face
I was still living in the same place
So what could be amiss
Then it dawned. This was me growing up amongst other things

My mind was what felt different
It felt the impulse to stand alone
Didn’t care about games and winning bets
It thought of the world. Saw it cold as stone

And so writing this piece
I have grown up that I can say
But a baby girl has lost herself you see
And that’s an awful price to pay.

About the author



By clarajack


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Pencilmarks and Scribbles Magazine was founded in 2017 by Clara Jack to be a home for African writers, asking them to come as they are and giving them room for growth. The publication aims to give back to the Nigerian Literary scene for the things it has given us.