Picture Poetry: THE BOY WHO REVEALED HIS SOUL

Here I am, in the water that cools,
That soothes my body,
Opening my mind
And diluting my soul.

Here I am, a boy who reveals his soul,
About the hardship of my being
Left on the shape of my torn soles
Painted with dark colours on the rough canvas of my life:
And here i am, again, revealing my soul.
For who will I tell, except you, about mama
Who was said to have killed papa
By the ones he held close to heart,
All for the love of money
Flowing to a mirageous eternity?
Who will I tell that his body wasn't buried in his home
And that his only son is now a sheep in the street
Left with the memories of his departed bloods?

Who will I tell about last night
That a boy of a morning age
Was struck in the night
By a man of a night ape
Who made him gush blood from his anus!? I feel the pain right there beneath
I feel it too deeply in my breath
And also in my darkened heart, tearing my being.
Ah, who will I tell of this "harbour in a mean nation”?
Who will believe that such could be lived
That thing I relive as I now relieve and reveal my soul?
Who will hear me, who will near me?
That is why only in this water, I can reveal my soul
To the one that washes out sweats and tears
And paints my face with momentary peace and laughter
For in this water, as I reveal my soul
To the one who calms,
I recall my whole that soon
I'll be out once more
To where my story always begins my end.
But as far as this will last,
Let me live in here before I leave as I reveal my soul

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