What makes men manly?

Is it depth in tone,
Is it large in build,
A claim of the throne,
And dominance at will?

Or is it indulgence of temptation,
To be a sovereign of fear and pain,
Using women as *******,
Destruction sought to be obtained?

To reap the feral fruits of life,
To sow the damning consequences,
Causing mourning, loss and worldly strife,
Chaos of man’s expenses.

What causes me to seek it,
What causes me to weep,
How I lack these biological ticks,
That keeps the world apart from sleep.

So what if I’m not big and strong,
So what if I’m not masculine,
So what if I can’t be the cause,
Of humanity’s need of Aspirin?

Put me in a quiet room,
Let me stew and think,
I aim to be the greatest groom,
My life will cease in a blink.

Father, son, holy trinity,
A woman’s man is not for lust,
My love transcends to infinity,
But women’s approval is a must.

Color me short,
Finger me stout,
Characteristics I constantly sort,
What is this all about?

Who cares if I’m not mean and cruel,
Who cares that I’m not suave,
Who cares if I’m not chill and cool,
I’m him whom man should evolve.

Only noticed in a small circle
and even so
not quite for who you are
      
and what you are able to, almost unneeded
unfortunately that is common
Time keeps going by
      
and later, life forgets
everyone and everything that was known
and then there is no difference anymore

Celebrity is a lie
pinned on a beacon
It does not matter
      
but sometimes you sit around doing nothing
and you feel that it is a pity
for your children, your friends and society
      
that you're not of more importance
or leave behind more
Time keeps going by
      
and life forgets what has been

I peek at my classmates
who I am, and I try it
out on them, because
they don't know me yet

Not as well as Mum
who already knows who I am
and comments on it
which often stops me

from being myself, from doing
as I please, Mum says
rather take example
by your brother or by us

I find it quite a hassle
to find out how
I am, I think I am
constantly changing

I learn every day,

from my fellow students, that --


I am different.

Upon your death, friends

unanimously agree --


on your character.

In the mirror's gaze, a fractured self unfolds,
A prismatic dance, where identity molds.
Lost in the reflection, a journey concealed,
Identity entangled, a narrative revealed.

Each facet of me, like shards dispersed,
In the looking glass, a soul immersed.
A pretty stranger, unfamiliar grace,
Yet no connection, a separate space.

Contours traced, shadows cast,
In the looking glass, echoes of the past.
A dance of forms, a silent debate,
Identity's struggle, shadows dictate.

Reflections lag, in a subtle delay,
A disconnection, a mind's disarray.
The mirror's truth, a puzzle unsolved,
In self-perception, enigmas involved.

Yearning whispers echo through the glass,
To seize the heart that slips so fast.
Dissociation's dance, a silent plea,
To unravel the riddles, set the true self free.

No one is themselves,

people are always leaking --


in each other's lives.

My clothes
My body
My identity
These are not reflections of me
They're extensions of me