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She Longs To Be Free

She paints a life in soft-spun gold,   A dream where love won’t lose its hold.   She speaks of mornings, hand in hand,   Of simple joys, a life well-planned.   She whispers of a quiet home,   Of love that never needs to roam.   She swears that all she wants is me,   But I can see—she longs to be free.   Her eyes drift past the life she draws,   A longing laced between her pause.   She craves the world beyond our door,   Yet tells herself she wants no more.   No walls can hold a restless heart,   No love can make her torn soul part.   She wants this life—she swears it's true,   But deep inside, she’s passing through.
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Banyomo

In the village of whispers, where tales unfold,
There lived a man named Banyomo, brave and bold.
With eyes that held the wisdom of the ages past,
He observed the world, its shadows cast.

Banyomo walked with a steadfast stride,
Never letting disrespect tarnish his pride.
But as he stood tall, firm in his decree,
Whispers arose, "He's difficult," they decree.

Yet Banyomo cared not for the murmurs around,
For in his heart, true integrity he found.
He knew that to honor oneself was no crime,
Even if it meant enduring the test of time.

For when you refuse to bend and sway,
Others may label you in dismay.
But Banyomo knew his worth, his true name,
And in the face of adversity, he remained the same.

So let them call him difficult if they may,
For Banyomo knew the price he'd pay.
To stand with honor, unwavering and true,
Was the legacy he'd leave, through and through.

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