A gentleman is not brutal,
but he will prove all vendettas futile.
He is not immune to bullet, fist or blade
but any insult raised against him
will be met with a blockade.
He is stoic, but still smiles,
cracking his face open without reserve
for a friend, to calm, to a foe, to unnerve.
A gentleman dresses his best,
whether it Vans and sweater, or tie and vest.
No-one is beneath his attention
he gifts compliments quite often,
but when a man puts a hand on him,
that man goes home in a coffin.

No matter his orientation,
he respects every inclination,
He holds the door
the same way he strikes true,
every time.
He knows his weapon well,
but in blood, he doesn't buy nor sell.
He knows the time to fight
but of violence, he makes no light.
He respects every man,
every woman,
every child...
But,
if his family is ever hurt
and this one renders apologies inert
then they shall receive only
a box and a white shirt.

To die of fire and born of ashes
how strange it must be
to be destroyed
by that which creates you

of course a woman is rendered as herself
by the ideas within her head
and decimated
by her own thoughts

and a man is rendered as himself
by the beating of his heart
and dismantled
by his heated blood

though neither man nor woman return from their destruction

I wonder if the death of the fire bird
is painful
does it know it will be reborn?
would this lessen the pain?

I would envy a man who was reborn again and again
but not a man who thought he died every time