a portrait of a man

A True Portrait of Myself

by Oletu Oghenenyore C

A True Portrait of Myself
Whenever I say I’m not okay
Always, you take it as my highest joke
But I’m nowhere close to being okay
With the happenings now I’m so choke
Nothing is working out right
You exhort, everything will be fine
That became your sermon overnight
You think good things will fall back in line
I smile to insulate the hurt
Even the hope vial in me is broken
I forgot I previously had faith
Dearth all-round, good can’t be spoken
As the pains cut deeper and deep
I no longer cry with my eyes but my heart
Loneliness fills my inner being
My broken, shattered battered heart
I’m a terrific poet
Terrible is an understatement
No adjective will be accurate
I live in the pit of abandonment
Despite putting a smile on your face
I’m always warring with these pains
Depression won me with ace
Yet poetry won’t let me drop my complaints
I’m reminded daily how terrific I am
Yet looking innocent to you in the eyes
Trying so hard not to be a strong man
But daily falling apart, how do I rise
Who am I
A bad brother to siblings?
A worse uncle to nephews and nieces?
A stubborn son to dad and mom?
A bad behave friend to allies?
A sinnerman in the church?
A black sheep in the large family?
Who can want me?
I will say it so nicer
So nicer that I have many struggles
Struggles that came with weaknesses
Weaknesses you won’t believe I have
I have been unloved —
Who cares to mend the holes in my pocket
Who last called to say he or she loves me
(I’m not a sissy; yes, boys are stones)
Who texts me of the update in town
I know you care about me
But no one did care, I repeat not one
Social media is a gallery of packaging
Glossy picture of fake life
Put up in a bid to match up or meet up
I’m tired, I must speak before it’s too late
So you won’t spite me when I’m late
I can hear the gallow calling
My fingers ache for the ropes
The blade too is not out of place
It’s staring at my face
I sail in the boat of distress, floating away,
Slowly, with the wave of sadness
I can’t do this anymore
But I won’t end it either
I’m tired, I’m only tired but I prod on
Like a frog, chasing success
While being flailed by failure
And life’s ugly rocks tied to my feet
To slow me down; to sink me
I won’t give up just yet
I fall forward, on majestic repeat
No, I won’t quit
My Redeemer is coming
I know the One I serve is standing by
(dedicated to all poets, writers, and singers passing through things)

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