My untold story

This is my story, my untold story.
Tape and stored deep in the memory bank of my mind.
Take my hand as we go through memory lane.
Play, fast forward, stop rewind resume,

And there high school!
A young boy sits in the corner of the table
Alone with a frowns and his friends Mike and Ayton
Joins, at that moment the frown turns to a smile

The boy put on this happy face for the world, While on the inside is a feeling of death. In crowed of people bored by friends Looking for escape sign, to give an exit

The boy has a loves people
But not the teenage talk
Can’t seem to fit in the puzzle
He remains the last piece of the puzzle

He was the tallest in class
Had a head shaped like a football (rugby ball) and his voice sounded like a broken record he was cut down by students

His head beheaded
And voice silenced
The boy went to his fortress of solitude
His thought was filled of tears of sadness
Each tear for each day spent alone.
Wanting to be filled with sunshine
But his reality was rainy everyday all day

One day the boy met a guy named JC
He drank up  the ocean like it was a cap of water Brought the sun to a place that never had a sunset And he said he will never leave

On that day the boy’s life changed
When JC met him in the storm
And brought the light into the dark,
This are my untold story

My name is kindness shikwambana, I was born and raised in South Africa. If i had one word to describe myself it woud be kind, that pretty sums it up. I have love food, my friends can testify on that believe me. One of the things I most love doing is meeting new people even though im pretty shy at times. Getting to hear, learn and building friendships. One of my highest value is family: building friendships that last forever.

The name of my blog is Anotomy of Truth


If you would like to have your work published in The Poetry Bar send your poem, a few words about yourself and the link to your blog to the e-mail




From Falling

You didn’t love me. You loved the idea of me.
You loved how I contrasted you, you loved having
arms to hold you at night, legs to spread,
a shoulder to cry on, someone
who will always justify your destructive deeds.
The things  you allegedly loved about me
didn’t make me your loved one, or the one
that can have faith in you and feel safe with you.
They made me replaceable.



From Online pain

To hell with pain, I can deal with that but I
can’t deal with not being able to escape your
eyes and move on with my life. You are always looking
at me from pictures, reminding me of what we
had and even thought it doesn’t hurt anymore,
and it hasn’t in a while, I’m still sitting here waiting
for your presence to go offline.