Telling truth


This boy called me
How he would rather be called a man,
Look brave and pull up his own jeans
But truth be told
He’s just a kid
Wide eyed at the coloured candies
Out of skin scared of the thing under his bed at night
Wanting a cuddle and hugs now and then
But truth be told he fears time
For time birth age
And age came with luggage called responsibilities
How i miss those days
When daddy would take the blame
And mummy’s hand could tell a fever I didn’t feel
But truth be told,
a kid I am no more
Each day I pull cards from a deck of choice
Pursuing victory in a game of russian rollet not poker
A wrong choice would mean
Manning the guillotine with my head in place beneath
Each day i ride courage like a horse
wielding dreams and visions like a sword and axe
While clutching purpose like a shield
But truth be told I have power over nothing
A mare mortal,born to die is all I am
All I make of time is all I have
With two options and two options only
Make choices or have life make them for me
Eventually their fruit I must reap
in due season my harvest shall greet me
With the beauty of endless fields of golden wheat
Or the surprise of a hen that tirelessly sat over snake eggs

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One response to this post.

  1. I do not even know how I ended up here, but I thought this post was great. I don’t know who you are but definitely you’re going to a famous blogger if you aren’t already 😉 Cheers!

    Reply

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