They laugh a lot,
Talking about things they don’t even believe in.
Principles break as they grow; behind their skin,
A place where the past drinks coffee every day.
It is ready to wake up his friends,
Sadness, fear, grief, and depression.
They all wake up and go to war with the smile,
Forcing them to mask it up and hide it.
I’ve met them all
Or so to speak,
As their so-called reality of the past holds them.
Unleashing a story is one thing
But the line they draw every morning on their face
Shifts as the sun switches horizons,
Kissing the earth goodbye.
As they dig into their pillow, seeking for peace,
Something they do not have on their faces during the day.
This poem was published in the 12th Issue of PoeticAfrica magazine.
Please click here to download.
More Poems:
Purple Poem – Barnabas Ezra (Nigeria)
The Crease on my Brow – Maina Nyaruai (Kenya)
Behind This – Amadi Chimnecherem Chukwumam (Nigeria)
A poet once said, “We bear sadness in our name.” To think our faces name them all.