The Young Boring Chap Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

From the bushes of the night, I dwell in secret.
Wondering under the brilliance of nature.
My blank eyes usurping the twinkling of the stars.
My wounded heart unsure of tomorrow.

There in past pew I made friends.
Creatures who supped, dunked and dove like the kind.
And yet none did bunk about words as did I.

So I went down the road which I heard a voice say; "Don't."
There I found myself a mirror.
(An absurd one to boot)
He looked as I did.
He talked and gestured as I did.
But he was pale peach, and I was dipped in chocolate.
So comfort I found not in him.

Then I decided to turn about the dark alley.
There I met the devil,
All welcoming and charming.
We conversed all night long;
until words themselves were but tasteless boards.
When dawn came I left him a mess about that tavern's stool.
Looking back, I regret none I did (Or any I did not) .
These twisted thoughts are but jolly days.
For I find it quite cheerful to be under the dull sky.
Wrapped about my dark cup of coffee.
All the while starring at my dust filled stacks of books.