Who's a Good Man?

pennedsoul Poems

They say a good man stands tall,head held high, Provides without complaint,never lets his voice rise. They say he builds a house,pays bills Feeds the child and keeps his wife content. He swallows the storm inside with a facade smile, Lifts every burden himself before it touches anyone else. His success is measured in bank balance, title and respect His duties, his stoic demeanor - that's the mark they praise. But what if the house is built and account gleams, Yet doesn't feel like a home,nights hollow with laughter borrowed? What if all he wants is love and respect, Yet the trivial care fails to reach? Is he a good man only because he succeeded and never raised his voice? Is goodness measured only in stoic endurance? Men don't cry- who decided them all? And these ludicrous rules, who wrote them? Fathers taught only to provide, never to feel Mothers meant only to stay home , to comfort and pamper Be Protector.Provider.Conqueror. The world isn't a place for losers, they say. But who are losers? The ones who dare to be meek,soft and deeply human? Goodness isn't a performance It's a coherent choice to be honest when it's inconvenient To forgive when revenge feels sweeter To reach and lend hands in the dark Without being remembered as hero everytime. In the end, perhaps the truest good man is simply one who remembers he's a Human first- a little flawed, afraid and yet feels enough.