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2594;
Score | 40
Vicky🦋✨💋 Nigeria Student @ University of Abuja
In Education 3 min read
The silence she carries
<p>August came like a thief —  </p><p>Not in the night, but in broad daylight,  </p><p>Dragging hunger, bills, and silence by the neck.</p><p><br/></p><p>She was a university student —  </p><p>Not just chasing a degree,  </p><p>But fighting a battle no one could see.  </p><p>Her department demanded too much —  </p><p>Too many dues, too many projects,  </p><p>Too many deadlines attached to price tags.</p><p><br/></p><p>They called it education.</p><p>But nobody taught her how to survive it.</p><p><br/></p><p>She looked at her hands — not lazy hands.  </p><p>Hands that had written assignments,  </p><p>Scrubbed pots, sketched project models,  </p><p>And held onto hope like it was oxygen.  </p><p>But still… always empty.</p><p><br/></p><p>Money came and disappeared like a ghost.  </p><p>She paid today, they asked for more tomorrow.  </p><p>As if her wallet was a river with no end.</p><p><br/></p><p>Her roommates talked about shopping,  </p><p>Restocking foodstuff, getting new shoes.  </p><p>She smiled.  </p><p>But her bag was empty,  </p><p>Her gas was finished,  </p><p>And the last pack of noodles sat like treasure in her cupboard.</p><p><br/></p><p>Meals turned into guesses.</p><p><br/></p><p>Breakfast skipped.  </p><p>Lunch ignored.  </p><p>Dinner replaced with sleep and stomach growls.</p><p><br/></p><p>Her father, her backbone,  </p><p>Now bent under the weight of life.  </p><p>Mom was sick operation pending.  </p><p>And salary? Nowhere to be found.  </p><p>The place he worked hadn’t paid in months.</p><p><br/></p><p>He sent ₦2,000 </p><p>For something worth ₦50,000.  </p><p>He apologized.  </p><p>She cried… not because it wasn’t enough,  </p><p>But because he still tried.</p><p><br/></p><p>And in that moment,  </p><p>She knew love wasn’t loud —  </p><p>Sometimes, it was sacrifice wearing shame.</p><p><br/></p><p>The school didn’t stop.  </p><p>Fees. SWEP. Projects. Printing.  </p><p>As though stress wasn’t enough punishment.</p><p><br/></p><p>She started shrinking </p><p>Not physically,  </p><p>But emotionally.  </p><p>She didn’t laugh much.  </p><p>Didn’t pick calls.  </p><p>Didn’t join gist.  </p><p>Because what could she say?  </p><p>“I can’t eat?”  </p><p>“I’m tired?”  </p><p>“I’m drowning?”</p><p><br/></p><p>Instead, she wore silence like a sweater.  </p><p>Heavy. Itched. But it covered enough.</p><p><br/></p><p>The mirror stopped showing a bright student.  </p><p>It showed a quiet fighter.  </p><p>Eyes tired.  </p><p>Spirit thin.  </p><p>Still… moving.</p><p><br/></p><p>She read under candlelight.  </p><p>Bathed from fetched buckets.  </p><p>Stretched ₦500 for days.</p><p><br/></p><p>But she never stopped.  </p><p>She still went to class.  </p><p>Still showed up.  </p><p>Still hoped.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because deep down,  </p><p>There was a flicker —  </p><p>That maybe September would smile.</p><p><br/></p><p>They didn’t see her skip meals.  </p><p>Didn’t hear her whispers to God.  </p><p>Didn’t notice when she stopped humming to music.  </p><p>Didn’t know she was surviving on empty.</p><p><br/></p><p>But she was.  </p><p>And that was enough.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because this pain?  </p><p>It wasn’t her end.  </p><p>It was her fire.  </p><p>And one day, she’d write about it.  </p><p>Not as a tragedy   </p><p>But as a testimony.</p>

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This poem is about my on going struggles do and what am experiencing😔😞😓

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