An angelic face
Handsome even
Contours in harmony with forehead
Cheekbones complementary to a nose bereft of hautiness.
Draped in simple but laundered apparel. Handy helpful hands from sleeves made of silk. Hands holding a New Testament, itself a testament to a man of cloth.
Tongue speaking in tongues; of love, brotherhood and the promise of eternal life. An honourable man.
Oh, hail him!
Till you have the fortunate misfortune of looking behind him. His flip side. A cudgel in his left hand dripping innocent blood.
Raw diamonds in pockets confiscated from scrawny artesinal miners.
Gold teeth replacing rotten canines in a fouled up mouth.
In his right hand fake writs of execution in a foreign language.
Feet with boots of brutality stained with blood of slave labourers
Scarred with hate for anyone and everything breathing, let alone breeding.
Oh, hell him!
C.210202.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Split personality is a disease condition but to a less severe version we have contradictory voices keep hauling in our ears as Freud mentioned about id snd supoerego always keep fighting.