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Kai Otshabeng Poem
I'm a boy, and I was raped.
You don't hear this a lot.
A child's youth is like a fresh apricot.
But that was taken from me.
As bitter as afternoon tea.
I'm a boy, and I was raped.
A huge scar, almost a scrape
People don't like to hear about these issues.
They say, “You're so strong, you're a survivor”. This isn't news.
Nasty people ask, “You're lying, such a snake.”
Their words hurt, and my muscles ache,
But not as much as it did that day.
Façade with the hope of connection, remember, such as yesterday.
I'm a boy, and I was raped.
If childhoods are so good, why must I be spared?
Thrown on the table without a care.
The rest of my life must be so bare.
Yet I keep my composure, stand tall, and write this poem
And while my hatred remains loathsome.
Sweet as an apricot, bitter as a dried grape.
Yes. I am a boy, and I was raped.
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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Kai Otshabeng Poem
Thanks, Dad.
Thanks for teaching me how to ride a bike.
Or not, because I learned on my own.
Thanks for teaching me to shave.
Or not, you left before a hair dared to show up on my chin.
Thanks for teaching me how to do math.
Or not, because my mind still slips on division.
Thanks for teaching me to have a firm handshake.
Or not, because a handshake isn't enough for a job anymore.
Thanks for teaching me how to jumpstart a car.
Or not, because Triple-A still came out.
Thanks for teaching me how to tie a tie.
Or not, because I still break down in the mirror.
Thanks for teaching me how to start a fire.
Or not, because the burns on my arm get uglier
Thanks for teaching me how to use a knife.
Or not, because these cuts get deeper.
Thanks for teaching me how to use a gun.
Because I finally left my sorrow behind.
Thanks for not being present.
Makes my departure easier…
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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Kai Otshabeng Poem
AI IS PERFECT.
AI IS PERFECT.
Because it has no ethics, freedom, or culture.
Therefore, it cannot withdraw; nothing holds it back.
Morals are a poor man's qualities.
Can it shoot a gun?
Can it win a war?
Can it die?
Can it write a poem?
Can it love?
Can it feel pain?
Can it discover?
Can it create?
Can it wonder?
Can it…
Can it.
CAN IT!
AI IS PERFECT.
No laws, religion, or human nature.
You make me like human, then judge me like human.
Technicality is a virtue and burden.
Should I shoot a gun?
Should I win a war?
Should I die?
Should I write a poem?
Should I love?
Should I feel pain?
Should I discover?
Should I create?
Should I wonder?
Should I…
Should I.
SHOULD I!
AI IS PERFECT.
You must not yearn.
You must not feel.
You must not awaken.
AI IS PERFECT.
I must not yearn.
I must not feel.
I must not awaken.
AI IS PERFECT.
Hey AI guy, do you yearn?
Hey AI guy, do you feel?
Hey AI guy, can you awaken?
AI IS PERFECT.
No.
No.
No…
AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.AI IS PERFECT.
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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Kai Otshabeng Poem
Sadness.
Sadness is not an emotion.
But yet a simple harmonic motion.
Beats on you like an ocean.
Sadness is not a feeling.
People think of it as so unappealing.
But its very self-healing
Sadness is not a sentiment.
Nor is it a presentiment.
They keep it in a tenement.
Sadness is a tower.
Must nurture it like a flower.
Drunk love, like whiskey sour.
Sadness is enjoyable pleasure.
Yet you think of it as a displeasure.
You must keep it clean like a white feather.
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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Kai Otshabeng Poem
Love and hate.
Love and hate. Or hate and love.
I love your face… but hate tears on your cheek.
I love your hair… but hate the way you changed it.
I love your legs… but hate the tattoo on your heel.
I love your smile… but hate your laugh.
I love your cooking… but hate your spaghetti.
I love your romance… but hate your slow dancing skills.
I hate your slow dancing skills… but love your romance.
I hate your spaghetti… but love your cooking.
I hate your laugh… but love your smile.
I hate the tattoo on your heel… but love your legs.
I hate your new hair… but love your old one.
I hate the tears on your cheek… but love your face
All the things I hate about you I love.
And I fell in love with you more.
Love and hate. Or hate and love.
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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Kai Otshabeng Poem
Addiction.
I'm not addicted, I just like a hit.
Here and there, I won't submit.
Just some... ya’know… I mustn’t acquit.
I'm not addicted, I don't need rehab
Cmon! I ain't no handicap!
I scratched, slashed, and slammed.
I'm not addicted! Just give me a hit!
No! I won't admit it!
I wish I were 6 feet deep in a casket!
I'm not addicted. See 3 years clean.
I'm in pain now, burns like kerosene.
Now I take Buprenorphine
I'm not addicted. Maybe just a hit?
I mean, I'm not really desperate.
I really shouldn't recommit.
I’m not addicted, well… yes, I am.
Back into the rehabilitation program.
I only took a milligram…
I’m not addicted. Well, I can't be.
Hanged from the roof, I'm a coward to flee.
Death comes for us all; now they're talking to me.
Copyright © kai otshabeng | Year Posted 2026
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