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To be a man, is to face your fears everyday.
Carry this meat suit in a dignified fashion.
Question life and its maelstrom of sorrow.
Forgive the failures of others.

To be a man, is to protect your friends.
Hide your disgust at others happiness.
Move unnoticed through a crowd of people who struggle everyday.
Find, laugh and be merry with your best friends.

To be a man, is to know thine enemy.
Prepare for your future trials by training the body.
Always mistrust the ones you love.
Pretend to feel empathy and recognize their true intentions.

To be a man, is to control your violent impulses.
Never acknowledge the visions of killing that you see.
Hold back the feeling of tears when spoken kindly to.
Never help the destitute.

And when I stop being a man.
And the facade finally breaks.
And the families who stabbed me in the back, come for more.
And when everyone has quietly left me.
And I am now the destitute.
I cradle my body.
And tremble alone.
A poem I thought up. Very harsh, but very easy to relate to imo. Hope you enjoy it, though I wouldn't.
MisfitOfSociety Jul 2019
Shut up,
Shut up,
Shut the **** up!
Free thinking is dangerous!

You can’t say that,
You can’t do that,
You can’t live that way,
You do as I say.

My voice can’t raise above my breathe,
Or they will take my breathe away.
Go **** yourself,
I can say whatever I wanna say,
And if you don’t like it,
You can go ahead and off yourself.

I can say whatever I want to,
Even if you don’t like it.
Emma Jun 2019
Men
I have known many men.
I have known kind men.
I have known sweet men.
I have known men
that scream 'not all men'.
I have known men
that are those men.
I cannot claim to have known all men,
but those that I know vary greatly.
I know good men.
I know gentle men.
But I have also known violent men,
Angry men,
men that make me want to rip my hair out
and men that did it to me.
So, while I know there is good,
I know all too well that there is bad.
I cannot change all men,
but I am sure that I will find a person
that does not need to change.
Until then,
I shall not be hurt by more men.
Selcæiös May 2019
Nobody knows until they go,
That knowledge stole the innocence
Right out of your soul

And now where do you go?
You knocked;
But nobody’s home
And you still gotta take cover
Before the Nightwalkers roam

So you’ve got no place to go
Abandoned family cause “you’re grown”
Turned a home into
A house with plenty of holes
Decorating all the doors

But once the sun falls,
When your eyes gleam
You’ll do anything to keep
from recalling all of those volatile scenes

And now you can't fall asleep;
Just cause a few memories
Sneak up on you,
And you can't help but peak

Rapidly, you’re falling into
depressing thoughts
Instead of falling asleep.

Nobody knows until they go
That knowledge stole the innocence
Right outta your soul
Right from under your nose

By the time you know, it's way too late
Cause the world has long since taken that
Piece of your soul.
Sara I Raad Apr 2019
I admit.
I used to wake up
in the middle of the night
and stare at you.
I absorbed your body in my eyes.
Nothing amazed me more than
watching a violent hostile human
remain calm and intact.
It was my only moment of peace
with you next to me.
It was the moment you reminded me
of the person I first fell in love with

"Goodnight"



Sara I. Raad
Smoke Scribe Aug 2018
The Violent Storm by the Water
(Do You Trust Your Imagination)
was not unexpected
but its fury was without compare,
poet awake in semi-preparation

living by water should be a human right for all,
even a small room, overlooking, gives new meaning to
perspective

we blessed with a patio door, encased in a glass window big enough for a smallish elephant to come visit and play with children

a storm is observed up close and personal as if one was in
an IMAX 3D  theater, and the edges of existence were being redefined,
sharpened by fury, tooled by tools untouched by mortal hands

miles of bay illuminated with bass drum furious accompaniment

stand before the screen,
poets arms outstretched as a supplicant,
the light of the lightening passes through him,
yet , behind me, she still sleeps

then the entire house shakes, reverberates, as if to say:


”tremble humans, cower, you are not permitted to watch my majesty, for such it was when created heaven and earth”

bold poet window worshipping
risky answers:

“but who will know
if even a poet cannot declaim sights
no one else has seen?”

”true, true, but you must choose if poet truly,
do you trust your imagination human,
to prove that the powers of the heavens are limitless?”

write of storms unseen and nature endless miracles

”then you may call yourself
a miracle too,
a poet

violent #storm violentstorn
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