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
