I am so afraid of becoming White Collar Micheal. He likes to act like his life is so hopelessly blightful, because his name is White Collar Micheal. On the weekend, he throws on a tie-dye. Goes from Business Man, to Mr. Nice Guy? Deep down you know it's a facade, aka, Your big life's a big lie. He does so many uppers you may as well call it the tweekend. He fills his mind with illusions of grandeur. I look at him and think "you need to be a man first." Instead of filling my head with candy and dreams, I face my demons. And it's utterly delightful because I know I will never become a White Collar Micheal.
Full disclosure, I didn't write this poem. It was written by my Husband - still working on a pen name.