He fought through hell
to fix it for them
but just made things worse.
Everyday he gets up
and shuts up
and hurts.
Decades of being told
to be a ********* man
turned him into one.
Reading comics on the
stoop outside his building
and breathing the smell
of exotic spices from open
windows and car exhaust
from the streets
as sirens grew more
distant from blocks away.
She ripped up and threw
away his drawings because
men don't daydream
they work and they suffer
and in silence they die
alone and if they're
timing is right they'll
be surrounded by
the people they love
but never see.
It's okay to be angry
but never out loud.
Never where they can see.
Pillars are not allowed
to crack.
Rocks do not cry.
Provide, they scream
at the young and
wonder out loud why
everything is breaking apart.
He fought through hell
to fix it for them
but just made things worse.
He is a ********* man,
for what it's worth.