Aching Man

I am the lost hum of dawn in a bachelor's room Who lies awake with tired eyes I am his calm and faltering discontent That blooms with the watering of his hidden cries I am the spots he overlooks in the mirror Made by the fists of his hands that never clean I am the river he steps over on his kitchen floor Spilt by a bottle he used to drink away his dreams I am the collared shirt at the back of his closet That his mother gifted him when he went away. I am the tag on the shirt and the noose around his neck Waiting for him to admit he is not okay.

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