DARK ROMANTICISM: "NIGERIAN YOUTH: SACRED DECAY" BY ABDULMALIK YAHYA (THE PUNSMITH)

I learned

that fear

can masquerade

as peace.

Once upon a time

to burn,

dyed in the wool

of a timid fawn,

pulled from a season

too harsh

to heal,

humanity stunned, swiftly gone.

A phoenix rehearses

the ashes

I called myself,

with every vivid shivering yearn,

drawn

out of a twisted brand,

verity

placed my name back…

in my mouth.

Perhaps I feared

that truth

would wear my name,

some silences disguise themselves

as growth.

No one noticed

I was fading away.

In a groove I debunk what decay

made holy,

with every rusted thought

I’ve sunk.

Back to a time

made rigid by fear,

I wonder why it took so long

to discern.

Even the cold

I worshipped

learned to thaw,

every breeze spells blissful ease,

a twisted brand

that gently spun,

remind me not to worship

what can burn.

I called my fear

maturity

for years,

but peace survives

the fire

of borrowed names.

© Abdulmalik Yahya (The Punsmith)

- Nigeria 

11.5.2026