He Now Knows The Losing Game Poem by Bianca 199

There were those legs in his path that he'd passed by
They would trip him and he'd fall to his knees
It was never of him to stay pinned and cry
He'd always rise and continue his journey to wherever it was
'There should never be any tears from my eyes
As long as I am labeled a genuine man'
And was he right? Was there ever reason for a man to cry?
No? Not even as his seams began to divide,
Nor as his already faint happiness began to subside?
It was clear; the still born longing. Somewhere inside
He ached too intensely and wanted to let it go,
But instead fought stubbornly against the oncoming blow.

'My pride is bruised from sadness growing inside.
Somewhere fruitfully sprouting is this satanic fruit'
He shakes his head too ashamed of what he states
And there's glimpse of his now vulnerable display
Some way or another, the secrets will come to light
In time there'll be the truth on the table, plain and raw
And getting weak, he'll fall to his knees; for a distance he'll crawl
But no he will not make it up to his feet again
He'll stay pinned in defeat with his hands over his eyes
And try to hold in everything with all his might
But'll come to surrender and bow to shamefully cry