My Image Poem by Michael Eziudo

If I was an image in an evening classroom
I'd tell the privileged learners I'm their antonym
They have wings and can fly
But staying in this cage with a will to try
Is a choice of theirs of many in their pan

If I was an image on the currency in every pocket
I'd tell the users my frame is as worthless as a dry brisket
How early would they realize that...
That their pain had been nurtured in a heart
A wicked and unreasonable one that let's them scramble for crumbs
As far as they fold their hands, grind their teeth and leave life to fates

If I was the image on every man's wall
I'd glow my beauty to its full
So they can't help in their haste to peep of me
And I'll impress in their hearts through the day the truth they must see
That 'luck' falls in for ones that made up their minds
To while in prayer make the choice
Not to die when the death is an enslavement
That of many options available to 'em
They choose to fight the battles of freedom

But I'm not any of the many images
I am me of beautiful handsome looks
That leave with your mind many indifferences
So what you make of me is up to you.