Incomplete Masterpiece – Kadeem

The sight of raindrops on my skin made me cry the other day.

They reminded me of when I believed in God, when non-believers were astray.

Compliance was the only answer because my questions received none.

A few toys and my imagination were my only sources of fun.

The fickle designs of a child’s brain care not for logic or black or white.

Or rain or sun or snow or fog – no – only for demons that lurk in the night.

Is it our instinct to instantly fear the things in the dark that we can’t see?

And why, just because the thing’s in the light, can it not appear, and yet still be?

Still no facts – a pity really. That thought itself is what made me cry.

People will argue for one or another right until the day they die.

Never a thought for the wasted time

they could have used feeling sublime –

staring at raindrops on their skin,

not waiting for a life after death to begin.


is bad with names, good with details, and enjoys a good drink. Previous editor of Roehampton Writing Society’s Anthology 2012 and co-founder of Talking to Strangers.

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