man of the house
king of composure,
cleanliness,
Charity backfired or
minimal return.
All above or none
at all.
thoughtful disposer,
I keep a clean cage.
Like a sunrise
after too much coffee.
When the hangover is
gone or while it's
punching you in the face.
my eyes are protected
because this poem is about
sunrise,
and I am of punctual nature,
a disinfectant, or a
procedure that must occur.
An option to defer,
a referee and an ounce of hurt,
yet a comfortable situation.
I never want to get burnt again.
White doves no desire for them
if they cost too
much or manipulate economy.
Beg my pardon, I am
stressed and mean no harm.
Twist my arm I fold when I fold
and right now I am holding on.
what cure can be found in a
band-aid but to slowly heal,
be it a small enough wound.
A large disaster,
a surgical mind,
a black hat, perhaps?
a hero and a villain
that is what I am, a man—
Medication.