How do I survive this without losing myself?
How do I get to broken without falling apart?

When does it all stop being normal?
When did it even start?

Is there redemption in escape?
Or should I seek comfort in the snare?

I’ve felt the pain of both and I know not which is worse,
The torment of the run or the sick solace in despair.



We are all a little broken, and that’s okay


We all have secrets, some in pleasure and some in pain,
And we all have scars, some held in pride and some hidden in shame,

We all have that one thing that makes us so afraid,
That if revealed would earn us the titles “unworthy and frail”,

And make our survival in this world to be all in vain,

We are all a little broken, and that’s okay,
Some so visibly and some only slightly so,

But broken still, sometimes we try to hide our pain,
Like with smiles and laughter and dancing in the rain,

But underneath we feel the truth, it always remains…

We ought to wear some of our brokenness with honor and pride
Like a winner’s medal after making it through the rough tide,

To let the pain know that we remember and we won
And more so, to let others know, they’re not alone,

And that sometimes it’s okay to be a little broken, a little torn…

So here are my medals, my battle scars…

…ok, maybe another day for those medals…
~Rk Nyra~


Desiring the cross over


A toast to this life
It’s been a good 25 years


Can finally feel the transit around the corner
Bottoms up, all smiles, no tears


Be quick and painless is my only plea
We are the ones who welcome such with cheer


Hope the myth is actually true
Hope it will all finally be clear


Hope the other side is actually heaven
Where love will replace all fear


Hope the cross over will be a fun one
One that’s smoothly steered


Rk Nyra
Desiring a break.



Chocking on a million words

Never told to this uncaring world

Picking up my broken parts

Pieces played like playing cards

Tossed around like flying darts

Caring for a dying heart

Thirsting for loving arms

Still remaining unloved. . .


Pacing up and down this road

I hear they call it “Love’s abode”

My feet have grown numb and cold

From all the walking in this zone

Growing faint from a weak’ning hope

Each time I knock on a door and hear “love’s not home”

Trying to get this love-lock code

Still remaining unloved. . .

Giving until it’s all ran out

Giving until I am without

Drained to the point of daily doubt

A lifeless life lurking about

Craving to hear love aloud

Wanting to scream, wanting to shout

But now too weak to let out a sound

Still remaining unloved. . .


Hold my hand, draw me nigh

Pull me close, hold me tight

Don’t let me go, even if I try to fight

Tell me you love me in your sight

Look at me square in the eye

Convince me that it’s not a lie

That until I die

I’ll not remain unloved.

~RK Nyra~


She visited again
in the dead of the night,

Just like good old times
when she would say “it’ll be alright”

Tonight was different
I was mesmerized

But my choking pillow knows
that I was petrified

Tonight she was darker
not my usual angel

she was a bit pale
somewhat emo n fickle

Tonight she didn’t help me unclench my pillow
nor hold me close to suck out my grief

She stared in silence; I looked back in fright,
Tonight I understood the ritual would be brief. . .

She had taught me well
in her many visits past

To listen to the voice in her eyes,
tonight they revealed her curse. . .

My pain was no longer her meal
she had changed her diet

Tonight it had overwhelmed her,
made her numb and quiet

Tonight I stretched out my arm
to welcome her own,

Tonight I took her role
and led her home

A haven we created
knowing well of this day

When my angel, now my goth
would come my way. . .

~RK Nyra~


Pointing fingers is as easy as a hobby for most

Some raise others and shamefully dare to boast

­Their judgments based on fictional facts

They rush into hasty irrational acts

They say that it’s “taking law into their hands”

But I think it’s more like “taking LIFE with their bare hands”!!

.  .  .

Yesterday they ganged on me with machetes and stones

Hacked my head and limbs and broke my bones

A voice in the angry mob asked “kwani huyu ame-do?”

The man wielding a machete replied “me sijui. Nimepata akichapwa tu”

“Mwizi!! Mwizi!!”  Retorted the crowd

As I writhed in agony on the blood-filled ground

They began to shout, “Lynch the man!!”

I cried and pleaded, “I’m not the one”

Even in this economic estate, so adverse and dire

Someone generously provided paraffin to put me on fire!!

Bylaws created by a heartless environment

After my death, they discovered I was innocent!!!

~RK Nyra~



I used to “ah” and “aw”

at things I’d never seen before..

Used to lack even little words

for what I’d never heard..


Oh now!!…

My heart bears fangs of love

for the rejects from above..

My mind orchestrates the obscenities

that you crave for in your fantasies..

My hands trespass the territories

that cause you yucky ‘belly-worries’..

“Breaking-Boundaries” is my latest pledge

I love this life on the edge!!

A gasp!? Are you shocked!?

Aren’t you now able to talk!?..

I bet you feel some anger-burn and blazing hate too!..

You’re SO predictable!: I expected you to!!..

Don’t you dare blame the “Lack of Innocence” on me!!..

When you’re the very one who made me what you see!!..

I’m not your little angel, n0T anymore!!..

But the beast YOU sculpted from my gore!!…

I wanna hate you with all my gut…

But you’re way too deep into my heart!!


© Rk Nyra.