Black Sheep – Ezekiel David

The black sheep is known!
The black sheep is known!
We caught him this morn’ on the intersection;
The hall connecting the balcony and kitchen section

He dipped his hand in the cookie jar.
All he wanted was his feeding to be at par,
But the first and third wouldn’t have it,
They argued on and on to buttress it.

The slap to the neck area would have the first satisfied,
But the surge and pump of red made his rage blind.
Another shove across the wall and a one-sided standoff,
Rage made another move but was held back and told off.

The sheep stood like a feather drenched in the rain.
Unable to stand his ground, he showed refrain.
His actions became calculated but small banter could suffice,
A repeated sentence and now the first could put him on ice.

Struggle begot struggle and a window opened,
The sun would’ve shown hope but anger seeped in
And in a second, came his fist which made contact.
The sheep grew restless but keeping calm was of great importance.

Mama sheep ‘sheeped’ and after much vexation the first dipped,
This black sheep knew the scale of justice to him has been tipped.
Now, he longs for papa sheep to ride in and see he was wronged,
But with each passing second, the second saw justice decreased.

In this moment, he knew that if more attention was paid to men’s mental health,
This show of power would have been doused but it was only thought,
He could think of the impact and positive change if the first was informed.
He hoped that day would come but now his feelings were bummed.

And true to his fear, papa’s ship upon arrival sailed towards bias and prejudice,
And black wool knew it was opposed to their self-acclaimed purity.
He tried speeches and even that failed to grant him security,
He knew what he had to do so he swallowed intensively.

He then hid his emotions in the ‘bottom left shelf of the tenth chamber’ of his heart,
Only a fraction of salted water was spilt despite being shoved like a shopping cart,
After all his heart was a paradox of its own;
The soft fragile muscle hidden in dense hardened rock and trapped below.

I woke up this morning and dipped my hand in the cookie jar.
I awoke to an updated status way below family par.
The early hours of this morning met me sinking in tar,
I felt the cold of dawn and I was the black sheep of the family.
Such a cold rebirth!

About the Author:

David is a spoken word artist who uses his arsenal of words to defend the rights of the girl child and proffer solutions to social issues in his community. He writes from an unconventional standpoint. Aside from being a talented actor and poet, David is an entrepreneur in the creation of body art – customized wrist and ankle bracelets to be precise. He derives pleasure in customizing memories. Social Media handle: @kingdavidezekiel777

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