Of Being

Reaching deep down into

The deep recesses

Of my soul

Somewhere one could find

Forgiveness

It is discreetly tucked away

In an empty coffee can

Like the kind

Grandma dumped bacon grease in

The can is unmarked

Neglected

Much like my other feelings

Such as empathy

Pride is like a border guard

With an itchy trigger finger

Somewhere on the 38th paralell

Quick to shoot down

Feelings

While vigilantly guarding

My fragile psyche

Only in absolute solitude

I can be

Who I truly am

With this condition

Of being a man