RIC BASTASA


The Desperate Man.... - Poem by RIC BASTASA

perhaps
you were born with
a certain kind of
stigma

not that kind which
bleeds like an eye
of a widow
crying

the stigma of youth
which found no pleasure
in the river

or that which pricks your
finger with the thorn of
a rose

perhaps you never had
a happy childhood to make you
a man of accomplishments

you have remained to be just
a child,
the most disturbed one which
fathered
a psychopath

sad, but compelling, true
and nonfunctional,
however, as evident as
a nail
with its head stuck on
the hardest wood,

there is still you in
the disguises of masks
in the mirror of
life

still, firm, tight lipped,
unwavering, to life, to life,
onward,

less the cowardice of
a thousand deaths which most
of the men
have desperately suffered.

Topic(s) of this poem: life


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, July 4, 2017



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