When he was just a figurant,
He hides his truth in shadows.
He was ashamed of who he was.
He hides his euphoria from the deadly nightshade.
He was scared of facing tomorrow,
As if night would never extinguish the light.
Community members laughed like hyenas,
Each word a burden,
Telling him he would never be enough,
Just a bush waiting to be set ablaze
And consumed by the breath of fire.

They tried to change him.
He cried as they molded him into their ideal.

He felt ashamed,
Like a candle burning at both ends.
He prays that his mother does not ever find out
The secrets hidden deep within him.
But even as grass sprouts on the roof,
His truth will always win.

But he's told to hide his nakedness because he has sinned at night;
He should not be seen in the daylight.

He has disgraced his name and betrayed his surname.
He still has a fear of being rejected in every room
Because people drained his power.

Should he continue with this life of hiding?
Or should he shout it out in the streets with bitter words?