My Childhood

Chidera would look at me with disgust
Like I designed my tiredness with golden polish of dirt
Left from moments I spent sporting in field with my friends
Like I twisted the swirls at the tip of my fine fabric, rumpled into wavy patterns from unironed days of no electricity
I'm not used to such unpleasant stare of disregard
Like I Should admonish my team mates to wash their hands before they expressed their excitement of the scores I delivered
Like I'm not allowed to create memories I would laugh about tomorrow with the genuine smiles I meet today
Why do I have to come home clean?
I've always been met with smiles from other school kids walking home too, looking as dirty as I am
Pacing into life slowly creating wonderful moments
They understand my world
And we share similar happiness
The frowns from these clean adults is confusing
What is it about clean clothes that makes them frown?
I wont let cleanliness rob me of my childhood abeg. 

The Vyrus