flexed muscles raw and harsh,
veiny, bulging with bold
strength and brute.
thick arm holds dazzling
blonde, her make up far
prettier than her mouth.
he smiles, plastic thoughts
running in his brain, forced
affection; he's breathless.
and the sick, malicious
words of his "one and only"
fall short; how dare he.
his brothers look to him:
an image of what man
should ever dream to be.
though inside, those dreaded
emotions twist and turn;
he curses his insecurities.
for man is supposed to be
wall, standing tall, proud,
not sufferer of thoughts.
and he admits to even
tearing up from pieces
of poetry, the cursed things.
he can build up his body,
the very definition of
masculinity, identity.
but he can never kill
the sensitivity breathing
within his brittle self.
and thus he stands,
a monster of steel with
a heart made of paper.
his anxiety worsens
day by day, second
by fucking second
the monster cries every night.
A/N: This piece was born from najibforlife's prompt of "man". I hope you all enjoyed my interpretation of the theme. :)
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Poetry| 1st Place for Summer Sun Awards (Beginner's Firsts) | | 2nd Place for the Pinpoint Awards | | Finalist for the 2016 Awards | It matters not what people think regarding things you believe strongly in. Perhaps, it may even help to even spread...
