Foster Davis

A Real Man - Poem by Foster Davis

I sing a song late of frustration,
Pulling thorns from a thin-skinned back and breast.
While, poor me, I chide my introspection.
A real man would blow this off with a jest.
Tears would come when, late at night,
Alone, away from spouse, a cry is accepted,
A moan, alright.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 24, 2006

Poem Edited: Tuesday, September 21, 2010

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