life, poetry, Self-Help

The Man

Conceived in the womb

of rustic Earth, in cradles

of cemented cobbled streets.

Sculpted body arched cuts

carved out pangs of hunger, 

an old man who was never there,

hollow eyes searching in rubble

and dust to foresee a clueless future,

bulging muscles fed on charades

of abuses, molded of violated

sexuality on menacing highways

Risen out of grim wreckage of a

wasted youth and cheap drugs.

Raw and visceral, he was to

be The Man…

11 thoughts on “The Man”

  1. I am so glad that you liked it, the thought of this poem came while exercising somehow. Truly appreciate it!

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