Boys Bear Scars Too…

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Boys Bears Scars Too...

I beg you; do not curse my father because of this poem,
Neither should you seek the head of my mother.
I beg you; do not let your voice crack
Into shards of painful prickles
Prickling tears down your face.
Please don’t. I beg you don’t.
Because it wasn’t their fault after all…
It wasn’t.

In the country where I come from,
As a boy child, you’re a god –
A god that shouldn’t shed tears,
A god that shouldn’t allow his
Fears radiate on his facial apartment,
A god…that shouldn’t fidget –
But They forget, that as gods sometimes
We become chicks subjected to the lordship of hawks.
They forget sometimes the journey
We take Into our head only births voices
Telling us to make friends with the ropes hanging from our ceilings…
They forget depression also knows our surname
& can change its colours just to get inside of us –
They forget we’re human too…

The first time I told my father I was depressed,
He looked deep into my eyes
Positioned his cocked bullets of words towards my head…
& skrrrrrrr he splattered them into my ears –
To him my depression
Is a big sack of shame I’ve decided to draw along my path of growth.
To father, my depression
Is a mask shielding my bravery,
Making mockery of the man I’m becoming –
What do you want the girls to say about you he said.
But father didn’t know;
That I’m not only a boy but human too,
That I carry scars as well
And can breakdown just like my sister does every fortnight
At the stool of mother –
& this moment I wish I were a girl child.
My father didn’t know;
That depression also knows my surname
& can change its colors just to get inside of me –
My father didn’t know;
That depression sometimes becomes an interim president
In a man’s life as well.

The last time I told my mom I was depressed,
She punched some digits
Making efforts to communicate to God via her phone,
But poor me – God doesn’t use a phone so she couldn’t keep in touch.
I was possessed she said…
I need spiritual cleansing from spirits that kept my soul stocked
In between the inbetweens of their coven –
But would you please tell mom that these spirits never existed
But as strange voices constantly
Echoing in my head –
One walked up to me last night
Telling me these rat poisons are food
For humans like me to feed on.

I believed him actually,
Since arms I felt I could lean on
Suddenly became too short to accommodate me.
Those laps, I felt I could wet with burdens
Flowing out as tears from my eye sockets
Suddenly became too busy with the heads of my sisters.

And everyday just like today
I try giving myself quit notice from this body –
Life isn’t for you I repeatedly say.
Maybe all boys like me only needed to exist
As inks floating on black & white sheets.
Maybe we should only exist
As poems laced with confused sorrows
Fading off as unpleasant songs
In an empty room –
But I beg you, do not curse my father because of this poem,
Neither should you seek the head of my mother.
Do not make your voice crack
Into shards of painful prickles
Prickling tears down your face.
Please don’t. I beg you don’t.
Because it wasn’t their fault after all.
It wasn’t.
This society pushed them into
Quadrangles they didn’t wish to dwell in.

I am Emmanuel
©2018.

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