I’m that boy you chased away in your dreams. The boy you said smells like menses blood and you could not stand the stench of his tattered clothes. You’ve forgotten how I look like and how you stabbed me here and there pretending to ease my pains. You wanted me dead, isn’t it? you wanted me dead in your dreams so that I won’t remind you of your brother again. I’m still that boy you could not remember his name in your dreams because you said he looks like your brother, the one who stabbed you on the chest with a dagger and made you voiceless. I’m still that boy you counted those scars on your body to and warned him not to cry. I’m not lost in that dream, I’m the dream. Don’t you think I look like what you’ve seen before? Am I not? I’m that boy you said won’t live to see happiness but I’m living.

Some things have greater emotions than others. Some of them are not bottled in minds or in the souls of men but are unravelled to the visibility of humanity. I’m not lost, I’m those dreams finding home in your eyes. For the onset of tranquility and for the record of history, for the beginning of knowing everything colourful, we’ll begin to name the sacredness of serenity of this place. Flip the pages where I’m made to be and remember to read about boys who were written as assignments and those who were written as breaking news. Boys like me don’t write stories, we die at the first page even if the stories run in thousand pages. We start it but we never get to the last chapter of the stories. In separation of muse and aspiration, my heart told me that having to stand like a boy in the midst of girls is a crime. A cockroach can’t be innocent in the midst of fowls. What is the business of a blind man in a battle field?

I didn’t make it to Brunnel. I was not shortlisted on the list because you said I was empty and there was nothing you could do to name me one of those people on the list. You see, I’m not bothered about the names you call me right now and tomorrow, I’m not bothered. I’ll keep living just like nothing is happening. I didn’t make to Commonwealth because you rejected me even before I started the journey. You said I was not going to amount to anything like the last son you killed. You painted a picture of me in Misery and managed to give me a smile to mask your agony. I didn’t beg to be born in your family, did I? I didn’t ask you to conceive me, did I? I won’t curse you. But when I’ll cry to my Chi, you’ll be his mouth piece to tell the world of my bravery. I didn’t make it to WRR short list because you said my words were filled with hatred and anger but you spilled the water in me. You conceived me when the world was angry with its own. I’m those memories you forgot to erase before your daughter’s death. I’m those memories you forgot to erase after the armed rubbers raped you. You said I wasn’t meant to live here like other humans but you failed to take my life when you had the opportunity. You failed to take my life just like Amaka aborted her pregnancy in the night of her torment. You said you won’t have time to talk about my misfortunes and Miseries and sorrows but you had time to scold me into believing that death is closer to us than life.

I didn’t make it to school because you never had the plan of sending me to learn about those things that will benefit me. I didn’t make it to church because you said all the preachers are liars just like those ones that molested Uche and Godwill and got Ogechi Pregnant. Isn’t it obvious that you were once deceived to believe that you’re a woman? You are heartless! You are heartless and cruel! I get burnt seeing your face! Sometimes my tongue searches for a home other than my mouth each time I try to pronounce your name. What mother would have his child’s dream cut short in the wee hours of the day? What mother would sell her conscience in bid to get more treasure? You are cruel and dubious! You sold me to horrible fate and turn around to call those who bought me heartless. Remember, I didn’t burn to ashes, I became the fire the moment you made me feel unwanted.

I’m still that boy you left naked on the street of Aba to die like a wandering fowl. I’m that boy you killed his conscience and sold him to get what you wanted. They said you came looking for what has become of me, I didn’t follow the path you created for me. I was not afraid to die; just know that I’m alive, I was not afraid to die. I’m the history your family never had. They said the wind had no body to fight for it, they said the sun has a mother that is useless, and the moon is as gutless as a child; they said the ground is a home for humans, but I have not seen a boy like me having the best life of his own. They said the ghost has home but travels in the air, only the smile of a child is located in the ambience of living. Under this tree is where I started learning how to hide myself under my skin to avoid what the world will say but I came out yesterday. I won’t cry again because of what you said in my absence, no, I won’t but stand taller.

I’m among the fallen, those life has beaten mercilessly, those life has pushed to the wall and made to kiss the dust.You didn’t care about me when I wanted you to notice me but you looked away from me. I found myself running after the bubbles and the regiments of what lies within me but the world is to me like a broken ball scattered on the ground. I won’t be the boy you refused to care for again. I refuse to be the boy you shattered in the name of living life, I refuse to give ears to your accusations. They said the water hates to behold the tears of boys, they said the fire is the only place we’ll die a thousand times; they said the house on the other side of the road was where you buried my placenta, how was it found in the pot under your bed? What mother will bury her son’s life in a pot?

For those fallen boys, there is a voice in this land for you all. Do not panic for you are longer stones to be thrown into the ocean to be drown. Do not hide under your skin anymore. You are the fire, you are the water, and you are the air, you are the best sight the world could behold. You are the best version of yourself. We are not tattered boys, we are the future, we are the light! Brace up your gut! And never settle for what the society said about you. We are boys, we are not dirty left to be trashed.

©John Chizoba Vincent

I agree to have my personal information transfered to MailChimp ( more information )
Join over 3.000 visitors who are receiving our newsletter on the Boy-Child and getting the latest information on Writing Submissions and poetry contest.
We hate spam. Your email address will not be sold or shared with anyone else.



Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

three × one =