poem, poetry, Uncategorized

This Man

When this man looks in the mirror

he sees nothing but darkness.


Black hole that takes everything in and never returns an ounce of what was.


what was never gets a chance to turn into what will be.

A soliloquy of lies

that have been lodged into my eardrums

As I march to the beat of my own demise.

See this,

is no surprise.

With ties

of broken women wrapped around each of my arms

Like crutches supporting dead weight for far too long.

I can’t live like this.

I can’t live like this.

I can’t live,

Like this.
This man,

Makes homes out of bodies

With people that refuse to decorate the insides of their souls.

And He knows,

That he looks for the stars in everyone’s eyes

without ever navigating the galaxies within his own mind.

He picks at the chip on his shoulder every morning

after wiping the remnants of fake tears from his cheek bones.

In a past life,

He knew what a throne felt like.

He came from royalty

Where the King’s crown never had a head to lay on,

So as this prince looks to his queen he searches for answers in her image.


“Why does my heart yearn for things that I can never find?

Rushing blood to the limbs that latch to walls i can never climb.”

His mind

Is never still.

His feet,

Hurt from walking miles in

other people’s shoes,

Afraid of wearing his own skin

in fear of everything he’ll lose.

So He wonders,

What makes a man?

Is it the callus on his hand

Developed From sweeping too many women off their feet?

Or being discrete with everyone he meets

About what he feels and what he thinks?

Having more questions than answers,

He bleeds insanity from his veins

as he strains to understand his name.

To believe that this man,

Is more than what he sees in the mirror.

By Tevin J. Reese

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