Justin Reamer

(2 October 1993 / Holland, Michigan)

The Man with Black Eyes


His head, oval shaped,
Long and protruded,
Eyes sinking into his skull
As if he never slept
A day in his life,
And a grimace that
Makes one slightly fearful
Of his demeanour.

His hands are large,
Meaty,
Like that of a man
Who tears things with
His bare fists
Effortlessly,
And his legs strong,
Muscular,
Like those of pillars,
Holding up the
Weight of great temples,
Or castles,
Or tombs,
For his strength is
Like that of a Titan,
Or of Atlas,
Who holds the sky
On his shoulders,
And the man perseveres.

The man appears ominous,
But he is jocose in nature,
With jokes spurting from
His mouth like a piece
Of clothing caught afire,
And his smile as warm and
Friendly as a little puppy
Walks into the room and
Stares at you with its
Adorable, bulging eyes.

He is charismatic,
His arms moving every which way
As he speaks with full
Emotion,
And feels words coming to him,
But these words can
Be thoughtful or thoughtless,
Like sweet fragrances from
A bright red rose
Or like wounds from
Arrows, bullets, or projectiles
Aimed at you,
Searing through your very flesh.
He is capricious,
And he knows much.

Submitted: Monday, May 13, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 13, 2013

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