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Portrait in Three

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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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