Portrait Of A Boy 

This poem starts with tears 

shaped like darts on my mouth;

Where the board is my tongue!

Underneath the surface,

A boy struggles with murdering a mosquito 

But always touch the neck of failure with a sharp metal

A boy has to hurriedly 

expel all the volumes of fear

& thunder courage outside for 

The community to acknowledge his manhood.

A boy doesn’t know the weight of wishes 

Until he climbs the mountain after adolescent

and the sky is no longer just house to rain;

The celestial becomes wing of the devil

that fans hades into every angle of his nose

The sun is no longer an ocean of warm fire 

but a lagoon of lava of suicide to bathe inside 

and success is no longer a seven-letter word

But a monster with seven horns, in several forms;

It could numb all the limbs of wish

or cremate will into dust and still name you weak

A father’s dream if it’s too late 

Is given without a choice to a boy

and he wanders with earth on his back 

Till the sole of his feet find hell or bliss

A boy thinks the sky is wide enough to house his wish

But the wind hand him a shovel when he crossed over.