A million lenses each with one focus: me
Blinding beams demanding my perfect pose
I would turn my back to them but the gloom
would appear before me
Reach to trap this in my fist but it would slip
through my fingers
Haunting ghosts brought on by these judging gazes
Sunny faces of shady people lighting up every spot of me
Scouring every inch for flaws, making little of every detail
An eternal show from sunrise to sundown
I wear masks and shades but they bring brief relief
I scream, I cry when I am tired of baring teeth
I am the maniac chasing and the insomniac being chased
Fighting, fleeing, hiding until I realize
They are unreal, they are not who I am
They are the angles through which these gazes pierce me
Mere mirrors revealing more of their status quo than of me
If their feet were placed in my shoes they would have no taunts
I could fix my eyes on theirs, keep the darkness behind me
I could close my eyes to them, let them keep pace if they so wish
I could carry on cat walking on my two left feet
They could be props, the audience but this is my show
I love the light, I hate the light but I will bask in it anyways
Maybe I prefer these ghosts to the dark, lonely silence
Read – Trapped – A Poem by Mwangi Ndīritu, Kenya
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