AN EX CON'S CRY. (Repost)

I see them.

The stares.

In town, if an old face happens to collide with mine.

In the church. As the priest says lets bow heads.

In the streets. Heads turn.

In supermarkets and malls and even in markets.

You look at me like I still owe you something.

Then

You pat your friends and murmur a few words;

They turn with expectant faces.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of this villain.

And as they feast their eyes on my facial details;

Sadly, I smile.

My secret is out.

Look at that ex convict!

I watch with profound interest as whispers are exchanged.

Telepathically. I can figure out the words used.

The looks I get confirm my thoughts.

Questions are there in every face.

Others its curiosity written all over.

Most of you though;

Its all the above blended with insurmountable judgement.

In unison, you decide that I don’t belong among you.

I am yet to understand where I then belong.

For I already paid my dues.

Before God and man.

What more do you want?

I also heard you say you can’t hire my kind.

I would like to argue;

I didn’t do it.

Or am a changed man.

Sadly.

You won’t let extant vibes go.

Stigma feeds your kind.

But.

You can’t tarnish my name too.

I did my time.

Thanks for coming by.

'Black Queen'

Pic from Pixabay.