A plot of 5 new words

Manic Depression

one part of my brain is a trader,
hawking stacked sacks of cassava and starch.
by the time i get back from the market,
i cannot find the proceeds from these sales.

the other part is a tinder box-
a reel of horror that i run from.
i do not carry my language,
i do not carry my cross or praying mat.

i’m unsure which part i will become.

leonell echa