You felt you’d done enough
You thought you earned their trust
You scaled every hurdle
Still all effort was lost
From peering eyes
To whispering talk
From heaves and sighs
To stern looks and diffusing rumours.
“Is this it?” You wonder
“The once revered golden boy
By murmurings has been dissected
And like the parts of a rejected toy
His honour dismembered.”
You decipher not the essence
Work yourself to ground
Just for a good name
Only for people around
To make slighting remarks, defaming comments
Point-shaped arrows
That thanks to God
Hit your shield of self-assuredness.
Your bulwark of self confidence
In your moral innocence.
By Ayodele Alle
