TIRED

THE TIRES OF A MAN

The tires of a man

Drawn out on the map of destitute

Snakes out into the rivers of trouble

The dunes of challenges cling to him

The drowned clasp the hands to their bosom

Failed they are to who they are

Flesh against flesh

Bones jar out

Scars bleed out

Fate blur

Wounds infected

Troubles into solutions

Worse to worst

Paths into sinking sands

Born into this world with a curse to a man’s head; to draw the yoke before food is on the table, bears a heavy despondent on what man has become. Blood baths upon the other; treaties signed, broken and mended; laws passed; all this to bring a kind of check on who man is to be.

I say this day that man is who he decides to be: a caveman, a civilized person, a loner or a sociable one.