A real man knows; that’s why his smile is thin.
He keeps his secrets wrapped in his thick skin.
You’re kept an arm’s length back, where you belong,
Though what he took from you has made him strong
Enough to fight you off and – he thinks – win.
A real man tells you that to feel’s a sin.
He feels that way, of course, but can’t begin
To recognize how his right might be wrong.
A real man knows
How gentleness can threaten, for he’s been
Out saving face among men just like him:
Alone and lonely, singing the tough song
To keep the pace, and carry all that weight along.
But where to turn when all his walls come falling in,
No real man knows.
-- © 1994 by Jack Veasey
All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced or duplicated in any way without the author's written permission.
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