LAST ONE

I am the last Nigerian girl on earth
The edges of my hair don’t lie down like wet baby curls.
So I carry them in thoroughly brushed bushes, bumpy clusters.

My stomach is not flat
My hips are not fat
So I wear my clothes and earrings and often forget to take a selfie.

My hands are not accustomed to that type of art,
Often times I’ve failed to perfectly draw the arch,
So I rub Vaseline on my lips and brush my bushy eye brows.
A song on my mind as I leave the house.

I am the last Nigerian girl on earth
No one is dragging my place
No big nyash, no rivals. 

- Because its okay to be ordinarily extraordinary. Or just good old Unique.

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Originally published here.