She calls him Daddy, but he sees her privates in the dark,
without her consent nor mummy’s consent. They share kisses and hugs in public,
but the exchange words and blows in the bedroom. He calls her auntie, but she
coerces him into an erection and ejaculation when he brings back what she asks
him to go and buy her, when everyone else is gone. They complement each other
and heartily greets each other, but when they go their separate ways, they stab
each other with sharp deadly words. He gets down to open the door for her,
afterwards, he heads to the mechanic to fix the car’s bad handle.
She doesn’t
play around with the boys, but she’s “seen” more men than she can count. He “sleeps”
in church, yet he knows the narrow path to get the red pot form the one-eye
chalked man. She dresses beautifully, has sworn to always look good, she has
the men frolicking round and about her, so everyone thinks she has “someone”. He
doesn't “kabash” like the rest, so they think he’s worse than atheists. She talks and acts the flirt, so you think she’s
the cheap whore. He respects and jokes with the ladies so you think he’s the
play-maker. He’s the ladies’ man and he makes you think he holds the female
folks in high esteem, whereas, he talks about them in the most degrading manner
you could ever think about. He buries his head in a book always, until you
engage him in a conversation and you find out it’s all been a facade. She looks
super smart with medicated glasses, until you discover it was cassava flakes
that caused that not constant studying.
The list goes on and on. The question is: do you believe all
you see, or you believe what you know, what you’re sure about.
A deceptive outward appearance.
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