By Sunday Eyitayo Michael
I walked around, neatly tucked in,
Trouser to my belly and my bible to my chest
As I sang ‘Hallelujah’, heading for church- again
Then a cry from a corner halted me
It was Emeka, the class’ bad boy,
saying the Lord’s Prayer in tears
Unknowingly, tears began to rush down my cheek
As I watched a book that had a cover
Painted with porn, cigarettes and rebellion
with an entirely different content.
I was unlike him,
I was that book with the title ‘Jesus’ son’ and
painted colorfully with picture of angels and Mary
Yet, every night when I go to bed
I smile to the porn on my phone,
thinking of the next chorister or usher to make love to.
Sunday is a writer from Nigeria. Visit his profile.