A Male Endeavour Poem by matthew broxton

A child,
wrapped in blanket,
for his fever,
a band aid for a knock.

I wish they worked,
for the scars I endeavour
to heal.
Cry, hammer the walls,
therapy, counselling to rub into the wound.

I want the answers,
I need the truth,
do these change 'What I feel'.
will these magically change,
me into the man I want to be?

I doubt it,
reality will show me
the way the leaves tend to fall.
Get love, a need,
from the person who created the wound.

I strum a chord
ring out the blues,
I KNOW WHO I AM
I KNOW WHERE I'M FROM.
THESE SCARS ARE PART OF ME,
NOT THE MAN I'VE BECOME.

I am liberated,
I am free.
THE MAN I AM,
I'VE GROWN TO BE.

Simple, honest, straight as a die.
A caring, loving decent man.