Brittle Boldness Poem by Stvenson George Tupas

Born with the bird that lost its flight
While carrying two asymmetrical planets,
The boy is told to display might
But his frank soul rears him to be affectionate.

Sporting spiky hair bathed in gel,
With a mustache and beard shaved after November,
Wearing a musk of woody smell
Sprayed onto a collared shirt tinted with timber,
Deepening his voice to deep-tone,
Dismissing the feeling of pain, for shedding tears
Means having soft and fragile bones
And no man is a weakling for men do not fear—

He followed the elders' mandate:
Carry with impudence the rifle and helmet,
Calm the heart's hypnotic whisper,
Dim the vivid colors and cover the glitters.

"Truth is mighty and will prevail, " Mark Twain said.

No matter how hard he fakes it,
His weak, brittle boldness naturally shatters.
Though straightened, the limp at his wrist
Shows when a good-looking gentleman's hand, he shakes.

Into soft manes, the spikes transform.
Unwanted hair depart from his face, neck, and chin.
Woods breed a sweet-smelling blossom
And timber is retouched with his blood's pigment: green.

From the abyss, his pitch reaches
The surface similar to that of a female
When he laughs without consciousness,
Expressing fresh feelings without becoming stale—

He ceased to focus both eyes on
The military routine. Like a majorette
Dancing, he tosses the baton
And catches it while confetti showers no fret.

"True boldness is brittle on the outside, " he says with pride.