Boys to Men
Some men look like little boys
Trapped in giant bodies
With their gray hairs and ill fitting shirts
Pinched faces of petulant ire
After so many years
Not being taken seriously
Then there are the little boys
Coming home from school
Who look like beatdown men
Just getting off a ten hour shift
At the metal processing factory.
Carved frowns hinting
At the jowls to come.
They sit at quiet kitchen tables
In empty houses alone
Eating snacks
Before homework and chores.
The men who never lose
Their boyish mien
Wage war against the boys
Of hardened visage
When they grow up.
It ends the way it always ends:
With scrapes and bruises and burial
Mounds of unspeakable tragedy.
All that remain
Are the boys who look like boys
Playing in the backyard dusk
And then the men
Who look like men
Concealing silent wars
Fought within themselves
For as long as they can.
They save their final doubts
And anguished tears for when no one is home.
Every day is a battle to stay alive.
Thrashed by the froth and churn
They man the helm
Until their sons are ready
To take a turn
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