Natasha C Akinfolarin - #DislexicPoet

Sometimes, we come across special work, follow the trail and stumble upon a great poet like Natasha C Akinfolarin. She kindly agreed to answer our questions and share her poetry journey with us.

Please tell us a little about your writing journey, the start, and how you transitioned to becoming a published, well-established poet.

I always loved writing poetry. It began around 8 years old.

It became my way of releasing what I could not carry in silence. Poetry gave me a voice when I was not heard.

As I shared more, I realised my words connected with others. That pushed me forward.

Becoming published came through consistency, courage, and believing my voice mattered. For me, it is about truth — not perfection.

What is your writing process?

My writing usually starts with a feeling, a line, or a moment.

I write the raw version first, without overthinking it. I just get it out.

Then I go back and shape it — tightening the lines, listening to the rhythm, making sure every word has a purpose.

For me, the first draft is emotion. The edit is where I give it structure.

What motivates you to write?

Honestly, anything can motivate me — a thought, a feeling, a situation, or an event.

But mostly, it’s what goes on in my head.

Writing is my way of releasing it.

What inspires you?

I’m inspired by real life — people, emotions, and experiences.

The things people carry, the things they don’t say, and what happens behind closed doors.

I’m drawn to what’s real, even when it’s uncomfortable.

What is the difference between good writing and bad writing?

Good writing makes you feel something real.

It doesn’t have to be perfect — it just has to be honest and have purpose.

Bad writing feels empty or forced, like it’s trying too hard to sound impressive but says very little.

What does writing mean to you?

Writing can feel like a lifeline, a process.

It helps me make sense of what’s going on in my head, the things that are hard to explain.

It’s also how I stay honest — with myself and with others.

What resources can help budding poets and writers?

Reading helps — seeing how other people write, different styles and voices.

Writing regularly, even when it’s not perfect.

And being around other writers, whether that’s groups or open mics. It helps with confidence and connection.

How can people improve their work?

Write regularly and be honest with yourself.

Proofread your work again and again.

Read it out loud — you hear things differently.

Reading helps too — seeing what works and what doesn’t.

And get friends or family to look at it as well.

What is your top piece of advice?

Write the truth.

Don’t try to sound like anyone else — your voice is enough.

Don’t wait for it to be perfect either. Just write, even when it feels messy or unfinished.

And keep going. The more you write, the more you understand your own voice.

Three Poems by Natasha C Akinfolarin

I Forgive Myself

Dear me —
The one who carried storms like secrets
And smiled through hurt and pain.

The one who gave everything
To everyone
And called it love,
Even while dying inside.

The one who forgot to rest,
To eat,
To ask for help,
To take care of you.

It saddens me —
The years you went unseen,
The way you learned
To disappear quietly.

I forgive you
For the years you went unheard,
And the neglect
That no one ever broke.

I forgive you
For mistaking hurt for love,
For believing holding it in
Was the only way to stay strong.

I forgive you
For treating yourself
Like you were worthless,
Like a heavy burden.

You were only trying to survive,
To make it through another day —
One day at a time.
And you did.

I promise — I see you.
The you that hides behind
All that strength and resilience.

I promise
To speak softly,
To make a home inside
The body and mind you abandoned.

I promise
To love the bad-ass woman
You are today.
Because you are
Fucking worth your weight in gold,
Warrior.

🖤 © NCarolAkinfolarin2025 🪶 
#DislexicPoet

Healing Is Not Easy

Not everyone deserves a place
In my healing.
Trauma made me soft
In all the wrong places.

It taught me to stay
When I should’ve run.
I called it love
When it was fear.

I called it loyalty
When it was loneliness,
A habit I couldn’t break.

I held space
For people who broke me
Just because I hoped
They’d one day understand
What I’d been through.

But healing isn’t a group project.
It’s mine —
Bloody,
Quiet,
Deep,
Dark,
And hard-earned.

I close doors
Without guilt,
Walk away
Without explaining.


Because not everyone
Deserves a seat
In the room
Where I learned
To rebuild myself —

And finally learned
To choose me first.

🖤 © NCarolAkinfolarin2025
#DislexicPoet

The War They Called Love

The narcissist called it love,
But it was always war.

He dressed control in charm,
Fed me bullets wrapped in praise.

Each “I love you” a landmine,
Every kiss — a countdown.

He left his truth in bruises,
His lies in a gun.

Now I sweep the wreckage
For pieces of myself,
Still pulling shrapnel
That says his name.

🖤 © NCarolAkinfolarin2025
 🪶 #DislexicPoet