Insecurity – acidic and corrosive.
Be generous, and the one wearing that garb
Will think you a harbour of ulterior motives.
Entrust such with little power,
His subjects he will then turn to captives.
This a cancer of the soul;
A thief leaving us hollow,
Blinding potentials, veiling goals,
Wreaking havoc, and destroying homes.
The insecure reads every comment,
To the right, to the wrong –
He will dangle it in inferior winds,
Ever afraid that skeletons may crawl
Out of his damp dark closet.
His actions depend
On the opinions of others
And drunk with his pride
He will hearken to no orders.
To those he can’t control
He will strike at where they grow.
Defy him and his whims,
He considers you a threat.
To him, all matters are contests.
So his children taste his bile
From not coming first on the pupil line.
An enterprising wife he detests,
So he resorts to battery to gain respect.
Insecurity – the sun that illuminates fear,
The fog that blinds men
From seeing what is nigh and near –
The quicksand of creative ideas.
contact the poet: Nwakanma Chika
I am a member of the WRR editorial team.