MEN

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MEN WHO ARE JUST OLD CHILDREN.

BY

Ross E F Lombardi

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There is nothing sader than a "notch on the bedpost" man

Limping from one ego fix to to another,

Like a crack addict begging for a quid

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To them women are conquests, prizes, sport, trophy's, instead of human beings.

Allways wanting to steal another man's toy.

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No amount of fucks will ever really satisfy them.

They will never really know true happiness

They will always be running towards the next thing.

Always getting used and always useing others.

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They can say all the sweetest right words.

The most beautiful poetry and have the most smouldering gaze

But they will never really FEEL.

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These are Not the sort of men that would stay with a terminaly ill wife till the end and find it hard to move on.

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These are the sort of men that are unfaithful just because their wife's body changes a bit.

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They care more about how the woman on their arm looks to their freinds and ex's

Instead of how he feels about her

Or about her at all

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These are empty half beings.

Eating their own pain.

Chewing on their own vacuum

Bitting their own emptiness

And calling it sweet ice cream.

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Pity them.

Even as they steal a person from under you,

Pity them

Even as they brag,

Pity them.

Even as they strut and boast and jeer

Pity tnem

Even as they cause pain.

Pity them.

Instead of being angry

Pity them.

Pity that over grown bloke child

Stuck forever in that cold tempest ID inside.

Trapped in rain, noise, thunder and salty sting.

For they will never know any internal peace.

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They can never fall in love.

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