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Nicholas Etikini Poem
I Plead the Fifth
We were taught the Constitution like scripture—
memorize the amendments, underline freedom,
say it like it’s untouchable.
The Fifth Amendment promises
the right to remain silent,
protection from self-incrimination,
life and liberty secured by due process.
But what does due process mean
to a child hiding under a desk
while footsteps echo down a hallway?
What does liberty mean
to a family outside a detention center
clutching paperwork like a life jacket?
What does life mean
when headlines move faster than funerals?
We say, “I plead the Fifth,”
like silence is safety.
But silence is often the problem.
We stay quiet after another school shooting.
Quiet when families are torn apart.
Quiet when pride pulls a trigger
and calls it strength.
The Constitution says the government
cannot take your life without justice.
But what about when we take each other’s?
Who tries envy?
Who sentences hatred?
Who holds accountable a culture
that says win at all costs?
We climb over shoulders and dreams
and call it ambition.
We protect property harder than people.
We debate louder than we mourn.
And when truth feels heavy,
when the mirror reflects us in the chaos—
we plead the Fifth.
Silent about bullying
until it becomes violence.
Silent about injustice
until it becomes tradition.
The Fifth Amendment was meant
to shield the innocent—
not excuse indifference.
Imagine if we gave each other
due process:
listened before judging,
reasoned before reacting,
cared before climbing.
A free land isn’t proven
by memorizing rights.
It’s proven by protecting lives.
So today,
I don’t plead the Fifth.
I plead for better—
for classrooms filled with laughter, not alarms,
for borders that don’t erase humanity,
for ambition that doesn’t require casualties.
The Constitution promises life and liberty.
It’s time we stop being silent
and start living it.
Copyright © Nicholas Etikini | Year Posted 2026
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Nicholas Etikini Poem
To the Girl I’m Gonna Marry
I
To the girl I’m gonna marry who smiles though nights run deep,
Who learned that even wounded hearts can rise instead of weep.
You once thought, “I want to run away,” when shadows filled the air,
Yet somehow chose to stay and prove that courage still lives there.
II
To the girl I’m gonna marry who faced what few survive,
Who turned her scars to proof that she is stubbornly alive.
You said, “I wish that I could claim this pain was something new,”
But still you kept on walking when the world felt split in two.
III
To the girl I’m gonna marry who asked inside her mind,
“Is this real, or just a moment fate will soon leave behind?”
Yet even in that labyrinth where broken echoes start,
You carried quiet galaxies of strength inside your heart.
IV
To the girl I’m gonna marry who chose a different way,
Who told the past, “I won’t return to who I was that day
The girl who fears affection, who bends her spine in pain,
The girl who lives in silence just to keep herself from rain.”
V
To the girl I’m gonna marry whose laughter warms a room,
Who somehow grows bright gardens where the world expected gloom.
Your kindness lifts the weary ones still fighting through the night,
And proves that even shattered wings remember how to flight.
VI
To the girl I’m gonna marry whose dreams are brave and wide,
Who wants to heal the hurting world with patience as her guide.
Ambition in your footsteps, compassion in your hands,
You build a better future simply by the way you stand.
VII
To the girl I’m gonna marry who wonders if love stays,
Who whispers, “Is this my leap of faith, or just another phase?
Is this the love I’ll finally keep, or one I’ll lose again?”
I hope the answer waiting there is written deep in “when.”
VIII
To the girl I’m gonna marry whose scars shine like the stars,
Not marks of something broken but reminders of who you are.
The world may see the battles you were never meant to fight—
But I see the woman standing there… still choosing love and light.
IX
And if someday our paths align the way my heart believes,
Through all the storms and quiet years that life will surely weave,
Then know this truth has lived in me far longer than it seems—
I love you more than words can hold, and more than all my dreams.
Copyright © Nicholas Etikini | Year Posted 2026
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Nicholas Etikini Poem
Counsel for the heart calls its first witness
memory, sworn in
under oath of breath and tremor.
Objection: relevance.
The jury of nerves
cannot disregard prior attachments
entered as Exhibit A.
Sustained—yet the pulse persists.
On cross, love refuses definition;
verdict: truth is bias confessed.
Copyright © Nicholas Etikini | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Nicholas Etikini Poem
Counsel for the heart calls its first witness
memory, sworn in
under oath of breath and tremor.
Objection: relevance.
The jury of nerves
cannot disregard prior attachments
entered as Exhibit A.
Sustained—yet the pulse persists.
On cross, love refuses definition;
verdict: truth is bias confessed.
Copyright © Nicholas Etikini | Year Posted 2026
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