My face is burdened by pesky thorns
Growing, piercing through pores.
They spread throughout the moons,
Engulfing my chin, approaching my ears.
I did not choose this prickly fate.
Sharpening blades, I marinate
This forests’ pitch black edges,
Assembling my extinction.
Every last spec of night is slashed,
Shearing away mere inconveniences.
I fancy the notion
That they hold on to one another, and shriek
At last, peace is restored,
Silky as ever
Delicate and frail,
Perfectly vulnerable.
Sunrise brings a crisp and fragrant sigh;
By noon, I sense muffled military thumps.
And by 5, the silk is penetrated by thin cavities—
They've swarmed the palace.
Spikey helmets dyed in red
Thwart every defense,
Casting bruises of blue,
Asserting their pathetic hues.
My chest plate weight grotesquely;
I have yet to fit into it,
And still, they taunt me,
Knowing I wince at the sight of them.
Michael’s kingdom is safe-guarded.
George managed to keep the threat at bay.
Jason has formed an alliance with the enemy,
And whoa is me, a mere servant of the shadow.
So I spend my waking hours
Avenging my innocence,
Attempting a flamboyant fantasy,
Prepping hefty armour for a wee stand—
And on the battlefield by 5.
Rizwan Moonbow
Grade: 11 / Sec. V
École Panorama Ridge Secondary School
Surrey, BC
“For years now, my middle-eastern genes have burdened me with what feels like a premature beard. From the very first chin hair, I've done everything in my power to remove it. I've always thought of facial hair as a parasite - a villainous force that extends itself and wishes to watch me suffer. Growing back within hourly intervals - challenging me and my Razor blade to a duel. When observing the 5 o'clock Shadow I've always ressented, I think about perspective - those hairs' may be desperate to bloom from their follicles and get a glimpse of outside world. I am destroying them, and quite frankly enjoy watching them suffer. The 5 o'clock Show is a reminder that I cannot prevent the inevitable. That while I wish to carry out my adolescence, allow myself to be carefree and express the intricacies of my vibrant personality, time, and societies mold, will catch up to me. ”
Bio
Rizwan Moonbow is a Grade 11 student from Surrey, BC. Whether crafting short stories, delivering speeches, or indulging in the occasional cheesy pop song, he loves all forms of writing. Of Iranian-Indian heritage, his work often navigates faith, culture, and desire with a touch of naive wonder.