DOUBLE PERSONALITY
Semanu Israel@israelsemanu290972
1 day ago
#poetry
I have struggled and fallen feeble
My soul resting from the rights I wish
I watch far from the green streets
And keep swimming in wrongs like a fish
I wish my path was far from my thoughts
Coz my hidden personality breaks my heart
My acts look like they’ve been bought
At a price higher than my mats
I have prayed for a true path
But all my allies come from an untrue world
I see this beyond tough
My ears have been kept from the true word
Is this the line I must keep crossing?
Waking every morning to protect my own dirt
This pen left in my hand to keep drawing
Knowing a day comes only to sing a dirge
I stand in the ring against myself
Praying against my own soul
Yet my allies only do to please them
And I slide always to the foul
Am I not old enough to keep crawling
Am I not stable enough to be drowning
Am I not tall enough to fall in the sink?
Yet here I am in the gutters and stinking
This hidden personality cracks my brain
And has left me straining to see myself
It’s hard for me to choose and train
These two personalities are draining my energy
My pillow gets wet at night
I have been far from dreams
My gaze channelled at my own might
I keep reading the pace of the streams
I have become the one my two worlds admire
To some I am the awesome professional
The glances fall besides my attire
And others think I am the devil in suit
To some I am amazingly cool
Kept far from the thoughts of a fool
Others only see a fowl in cotton wool
And I have turned the lights into many colours in my room
A kick or a dodge
A goal or beyond the post
A dream or a reality
A joy or a sorrow?
No matter how
I must face it now
The other side of me must rest
And my best self be put to the feast
I can only choose to be one
I love my awes in the best personality
It must be me and no one else.
Here is my story.
Divided only in my own worlds
Known only by these two spectators
I have marked myself like a third
Yet the only man between the two me
Not much sugar has become too sweet
Not much pepper has become too sour
Lord with no land has become a pauper
And a master has become a sense in many trades
The saint I think I am
When I take the seat of a judge on others
My cases presented in many twists
Just to nail the victim to the wall
It seems I see myself beyond any stain
But in truth
My garment has many whispers unspoken
And my rumoured path looks rough
Here is the body I lay in
Behind it is a man with many scars
Wearing clothes only fit for the bins
And people think my type to find is scarce
