PoetrySad Poems

Becoming a Boy

We buckle our emotions and wear them like evening sandals
Boys like me are envious of the truth, so we avoid looking at our reflections.
We have mastered the doctrines of the society;
How to be men while still being kids
How to spit in the faces of enemies because dad is watching
How not to fall in love too early, except in dreams
How not to cry.
Boys like Akachi were never taught on how to become boys
They simply found themselves in alien streets with no sign posts or graffiti
They move from door to door, but the only response they got were the mockery from slammed doors
Walls listen attentively without judgement, that is why their ears are barely seen
Boys like Akachi spoke to walls until they cracked to reveal their little ears, people said it was a lonely earthquake
nobody wants to be a Bible
Some boys don’t cry
But they love tears
That is why Raymond hit Clara several times on her left cheek.
When he saw blood, he was overwhelmed by the memories of his late mother, Victoria
When he saw tears
He stared in seamless admiration, he had discovered the fountain of happiness, this is a rare victory
and Clara’s wailing served as background music to this wonderful experience
he couldn’t stop hitting
During events, the society points a gun to our heads and say
“You have spent a long time outside yourself, your body may no longer recognize you”
We have enrolled into the league of spirits
Sometimes we don’t know where we belong
Sometimes we become friends with broken walls
And that was how we became boys

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