The mask

The mask

By Sylvester H. Wauye


I’m am enticed,

I want to know what’s behind that mask.

I do not want to get spooked.

I’ve watched enough horror movies that almost made me a psycho.

I know there’s yet another veil of mascara, lipstick and foundation concealing the doted lines.


I’m worried but cautious.

I’m no longer a dashing daredevil. Once beaten twice shy.

The self assured air I once possessed is gone with the wind.

I want to see what lies behind the pads on your tits and hips

So that when we sign and seal the legal tender behind the sheets

I’m unafraid.


I do not want to feel wasted

with loans and debts.

I want to look out of the window at the falling sun

Gulp a hot shot of whiskey

Not to obscure pain and sorrow.


I want to check out before the hotel chef arrives to serve a dessert of entitlement

Legislated with mis-allocation of resources that breeds inequalities.


I want to be part of Africa

Where there’s a reason to smile again

Where talents and skills are a refrain

While precision is part of a new dawn and the

The brain won’t drain again.


@Sylvester H. Wauye

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