Man Poem by Ollie Slaney

Man tore himself up again and again,
And pieced himself slowly, but slowly the rain
Would break him back down, and under the strain
He did not falter, but heaved with the pain.
When questioned, he'd always say he was to blame

For why woman won't love him, as though she is kind,
As though she's not bitter and foolish and blind,
As though she didn't trip him and leave him behind,
When once she did plant her heart into his mind,
And then snatch it away like the cruelest of tides.

If ‘man maketh man', then woman destroys,
And mans greatest downfall is being of the toys
Which woman will play with, and man will avoid
Asking her why, as she'll answer so coy:
‘I'm just trying to break up the men from the boys'

So as she spits venom he climbs under her showers,
His fingertips raw as he claws up the towers
She builds in his mind, and he wastes all his powers,
And man uses up all of his finest hours
When her heart could be bought for a bouquet of flowers.