Closet
a victim of the multiple offences
of this world, a few I share guilt
others I own innocence,
devoid of edges of any sort.
My burden is one of insides
I have grown into a man I must look down on.
Institutions drove me here
Sitting, reminiscing on a past
Seeking its entry in the present
There is non.
I turn to love
A deceitful constant in my existence
It always failed, my constant failure
I scream to family a pill to my woes
Its dosage never sufficient
Shadowed disease’s victory ever in sight
I look to tears
Ease my lingering burden
But my tears is a coward
I have learned to respect
My one true offense is a gift
Of nature
Copyright © Osuji Christopher | Year Posted 2017
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