Are We But Men, Are We But Men? Poem by The silent Poet

We must focus on our differences,
we're told this yet again,
our colleagues at work must reflect,
those we would call our friends,
so come what may, or so they say,
we stay until the end,
why?
well it's our character of course
are we but men, are we but men?

Awake and depart straight to work,
no time to think of self,
or what to wear or how you feel,
neglected, as your health,
your friends a distant, dormant thought,
as you've got no time to lend,
the question swimming around your head,
are we but men, are we but men?

The few that know you love you,
I speak not for all the rest,
even though they hasten to judge you,
always approach them in good jest,
for yours in not a battle that's won,
unless by book and pen,
if given a chance, ensure you ask,
aren't we just men, are we just men?

The title has become redundant,
both at work and indeed at home,
our influence recumbent,
we're happiest left alone,
a shadow of our ancestors,
who dwelt in caves as men,
but slowly creeps the revolution,
'where will you be, and when? '

until that glorious day arrives,
what are we then to do, shall we,
continue with our boring lives,
and hope to amble through,
having nothing to say, day by day,
we're capable, that we've proved,

but when! ! will you realise,
we are the men, are we the men?