The anger of an anonymous writer


My heart still pleads,

Like a mother for her son,

Against the whip with which his father

Will beat him.


I am the father.


And I will cut you.

Wó, I will whip you till you bleed.

Curse you to your death,

Bury you in disdain,

Ọmọ buruku.


I am the mother.

And I will spank you.

Màá lù ẹ, Màá lù ẹ pá.

Then I will curse you:

Curse your eyes

For tearing into her heart.

Curse your hands

For pulling her close,

For softly shaking against her timid skin.

Curse your heart

For being weak for her,

For longing for her,

For loving her.


I am the mother.

I will scream into your ears,

Through your chest,

Grab your soul by the neck.

And shout from the very depths of mine:

“By no sorcery

Of sweet words

Or touch,

Or passion,

Should you ever reach out to another,

Until you can love her

Now, and into eternity,

Until you can love her,

As legendary as Romeo and Juliet

As deep as Christ and the Church.”


I am the father.


Who must take you from your mother,

From the pain that drowns her,

From the stench of death that chokes her.


And I will tell you, boy.

That the river of blood

Oozing from the dagger

That is a piece of your broken heart,

Does not make a man.

Your body count

Does not make a man.


Those you have had,

Do not make a man.


Be a man.


Embrace the humility,

The restraint,

The risk,

The passion and the nobility,

In loving truly, deeply, and completely.


In loving one—

In seeing one,

In touching one,

And only one.


Be a man.



Fall again.

Be a man.


And through all this, you will never change. You will give yourself out, so she will give herself out. You will put out your heart, and take hers. Like exchanging pawn for pawn, rook for rook, queen for queen. “Lose something to gain something.” Born of a man, raised of a man, but self-betrothed to the devil. Don’t for one second, think you conquered her. Because a thief delights himself in his wisdom, until his wit becomes his doom. So keep slaying them. Keep fooling them. Keep breaking them. Keep destroying the people, places, and the love that could have been so deep, and so beautiful. Carry on. She will only watch—like she should have from the beginning. Until your charm becomes your doom.


I am not the mother.

I am not the father.

I am nothing.

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