a boy looks in the mirror
three faces stare right back at him
he betrays shock and chuckles
the world barely knows that the devil floating down a dusty road
is a sheep in wolf’s clothing whose heart is that of a broken girl
a boy sighs, exhales, furrows his brow
as he examines his masked trinity:
wolf, check. sheep, check. broken girl, check.
all personalities confirmed, he steps into the day, sheep at the front of the counter
harmless, human, angel waiting for wings:
the only face he shows to the world
that earns him fame, accolades
a good name and gets him laid
he lives in a world moved by whatever lures the eye
wait! have you seen a boy’s second face?
have you seen him hate on fraternity?
don’t you see how he abhors motherhood?
can you taste the bitter pangs in his voice whenever he speaks of fatherhood?
hell is the native language of his home.
home made him a wolf well versed in beautiful conspiracy,
mutual distrust. sexual abuse. and pity love.
so, he tears down every fibre of familial harmony
loathes the texture of this gospel: ‘home is where the heart is’
here, a boy is homeless and heartless.
doubt you all? ask him why he lacks friends.
yet, a boy has tears.
he twists the arm of gods into sympathy
even when same are drunk in divinity
if you can decrypt the eerie note of a happy talking drum
you’d see the third face of a lost boy
dancing shamelessly in the market square;
you’d see the face he never show to anyone the truest reflection of who he is:
a broken girl whose shards gets the nod of promiscuous phalluses
a boy has three faces
i dare not write of the fourth