He Cries With No Air Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

I know little of him,
The man confined between
The soul and the human spirit,
Without a tongue he speaks
With voice unchanging peaks.
No matter how he tries to scream,
His voice is like a dream;
It cannot pierce through the screen.

Who have had him seen?
I mean the man behind me,
The same man behind you.
I like to know his tone of skin;
Is it beige, brown, or pink?
Is it tan white or blue?

Lovers lie side by side,
But the man may lie apart.
The dagger in hands of smile
From earthly eyes it shades its guile.
Knife the flesh nothing is there,
The human mind I owe to fear.

But the man behind the man,
Whose mind is fare can’t be heard,
So he bleeds his innocence,
A dry white vanishing blood.
So he cries with no air,
Yet in human’s heart a flood.
But still a crocodile’s cry is hard to tell.
As his pains continue to swell,
He opens his mouth to ask;
Why am I created this way,
That my thoughts and my true tears
Are barricaded by a refined clay?

If all eyes can see my face,
Then a lie would have no place,
In the life of human race.
The human mind cries for grace.