Identity

So insecure they depend on the exterior
To secure the interior
Afraid of shadows
In search for the loudest voice
To blend themselves and say We Are
Without identity, shackled in inferior complexity.

We are the world, he says; what we say obtains
But who decide he knows not
Nor reasons for the stand he takes
But down the line for him is okay
Between conscious and unconscious emotions
Cos' reasons to hide lies within
To cover the fear of standing alone
And risk the expose of natural stupidity.

It's not found in the group I keep
Neither in the level I operate
It is me.
Positions I take despite the craze
What I do in secret when no eye sees
Shape I took from the mould of life's experiences
My platform in discourse
Identity is what it takes to say I am.

......The man died in the man who stood silent in the face of tyranny. (W. Soyinka)