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Portrait in Three
One:
A pastors son,
Clad in red shoes, always
Red.
Tall, with light hair.
But is it
Brown, or
Blonde, or
Something altogether
Unique?
He spits acid, sarcasm
D
R
I
P
P
I
N
G
Off him.
Curses casually cast
Into conversation,
Like they've
Lost
All meaning.
He kisses his boyfriend
Goodbye.
Walking home,
He transforms,
Nice shirt and jeans,
Gone are the
Ruby slippers.
A smile becomes
Plastered
To his pale face
Opening the door he
Mumbles
"I'm home."
Two:
Short and blonde,
With the face of a
Cherub.
She's all
Sparkles and
Shotguns.
Nice clothes,
Appropriate makeup,
Cute.
Her high-pitched
Giggle pierces
The air.
Driving home she
Remembers.
Sleepless nights,
Crying,
Missing her sister.
Four hours,
Might as well be
Another universe.
She opens the door to the
Empty house,
"I'm home."
Three:
The quiet one.
He sits in class,
Listening,
Observing.
Pressed shirt, ironed just this morning,
Nice jeans, no holes or tears.
Emotionless, like a rock.
His face
NEVER changes.
Push, push, push people
Away.
Silently,
He gripes, he hurts,
He's pressured to be
Perfect.
Riding the bus, he fabricates
Friends.
Lies
For his parents pleasure.
A sigh, the shouts in Chinese greet him.
Nonstop fighting.
To no one he says
"I'm home."
They are me,
I am them.
We hide,
We hurt,
We put on a brave face.
To save a reputation,
A relationship,
Ourselves.
We hide from us
From the reality we
Fear.
Hope
Is a myth and legend.
Human nature,
Survival,
Tells us to hide.
But what if we all
Stopped
Hiding in Darkness
And stepped
Into the
Light?
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