I need a man in a beret
In a vintage shirt and faded jeans
Wearing an apron soiled in paint
Palette in one hand brush in the other
Creating my face on a canvas.
I need a man in camouflage
Boots and warpaint on
Crouching in mud behind shrubs
Furrowed brows gun in one hand
Trying to fight and still keep alive
Just for the children and I.
I need a man in a tie
A calculating machine in his pocket
Rolled up sleeves and shiny shoes
Drowning in a sea of numbers
Multiplying the figures by the hour
Just to buy me the best.
I need a man in a coat
Round glasses and neat nails
Having a nurse on standby
And keeping all ills away
Only to treat me better than the rest.
I need a man in a wig
Gracing the courtroom in his black robe
Winning every case with his speech
Eloquent demeanor and grand gestures
But his biggest win was my heart.
I need a man
To sit with me at night star gazing
To tell me I’m beautiful each sunrise
To stay from my lowest to my best
To bake me a cake on that special day
To feed me aspirin when I’m sick
I need a man
To clasp my hand in his
And pray that I never cry.
She was always wearing masks
The day before, she had the mask of lies on
She told her tale so well you were convinced
it was the truth, so convinced that even when
she told a lie without the mask on you thought
it was the truth.
Today, she’s put on the mask of strength
You wouldn’t see her eyes twitch or sense her
weakness if you tried, she’s put up a strong
facade it’s impossible to crack you’d break
At dusk she puts on the mask of silence
Shush! Eeriness creeps on your epidermis
Ask a question but her lips stay sealed
Say a word but the response stays asleep
Can’t hear her voice, but can only see her speak.
At sunrise,she wears the mask of a princess
Chin up, chest out, shoulders back
upturned lips, at ease, hands by her side
The very cover of Grace and Poise.
It’s twilight and she wears the mask of murder
She’s managed to fool even herself
I sense her fear and anxiety, anger if you may
I see the knees of her strength wobble
I hear her muscles argue as they fight against
Her heart dances to the beat of my eardrums
With a firm grip on the Grimm blade
She slit his throat sending his breath into
Paralyzed by the sight of the crimson liquid
She hurries home and out of sight
Taking cover beneath her quilt
Tommorow she’s in the crowd
Talking and smiling from ear to ear
Seeming as if she was just as fine as everyone else
I just wanted to make sure she’s alright
That she’s better than I think I know
But she’s always wearing masks.
Timon whose name is Omodunni Martha is one very gifted writer. Her ability to flow almost effortlessly while creating something legendary with her ink singles her out.
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Thank you for reading!