Treasure Island

Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

Crutches


Crutches 'I' Face, too Deny
It's deep from the pain, my feelings inside
Moving forward, plain is my face 'I' laid bare

Hands once mine impulsively 'I' move
Each is compelled 'I' must show
Must each man show that bone to
each woman he meets
or is it the devil she wants and then keeps
It is just my social 'crutch' a really big bone
is a pain in her side, says her friend


Woman are supposed to stay mentally strong
so they can have a stroke 'I' as a man
know each my 'crutch' she my weaknesses
and 'I' hide them inside other woman
am 'I' afraid, she wont tell, my next friend
it would mean 'I' filled her with fear

i'm trying to show you my face it's my
'crutch' that i wear, in your place 'I' to am
he only human 'i' know,
please now just go far away.

Submitted: Friday, December 11, 2009
Edited: Friday, December 11, 2009

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