I know of someone
Who comes in two
He smiles in deceit
And compels me to believe
He says he is here
Yet, he is there
he makes you feel
Like a revolver
I try every time
To get his true self
To ignore the lies
That he weaves like a basket
I try to ignore
His face
The way it betrays his hands
And his shrinking voice
He asks why
But means how
It makes me want to fly
And land him a slap
I hate the games he plays
With all of my strength
But I try not to reveal it
I try not to talk
One day
I am going to tell it all
And that deceitful soul
Is going to know
I will build a house
Of violence and anger
And that person’s tears
Will be music to my ears
Mobolaji is a writer, poet and an observer deeply interested in how words can uncover the abyss beneath the human experience