An angsty poem I wrote one long night in highschool
Monolith of a man
Familiar, but alien all the same
Changing yet ever stern
Simply stated, restrained and open
A widely shut book
Surrounded in a web of human emotion
Engulfed in a sensation of emotional absence
Knowing of the affairs of lust but never love
A man's man but separate
Strangers are more familiar than colleagues
Love is fickle
It ebbs and flows and when it is in his grasp it slithers away
He is what he is.
A sheer face, rarely bending.
His sides pockmarked with the echoes of past eras
Ask and he will tell you, if it's a shout or a whisper depends on how you ask
He is a guarded open book.
He yerns to be free
He doesn't know what from
He has peace but it's restless
He is in control of his emotions but not his feelings.
Does he want to be broken again?
To be kicked at the feet of human emotion?
He's unfeeling yet a coward
He speaks simple to avoid problems
It gives him less to untangle.
Not to say that he's without tact
He's careful to not say what he'll regret
He's a monolith of man.
Plain to see, but still "mysterious"
But can he be more?
Or will he continue, restless in his peace