Kept Men


At this time,

in this place,

parts of me

seek to make a whole

before succumbing

to entropy

and dying comfortable.


Warning signs

painted over

with such pretty pictures.

We bought the lie,

hoping we

would avert disaster,

but it came, still.


Didn’t care for

the will of our masters,

and while so many

kept men

ran home after

their bout of sadness,

I stayed

out here

on the edge

of death and oblivion,

not yet ready to succumb.


How is

the world supposed to be

once we

purge the intrepid?

Coy and jealous,

weak and contrary.

Willing to lie,

and cheat,

and live profanely.


Seeking to suck up to

the powerful

in exchange for being


and raised above others.


Power and position.

Hungry for the blood.

Profit to sell a sister,

or trample children in the mud.

So quick to slip the noose around you,

point the finger,

kick the chair,

and claim that they were never there.


Kept men,

the broken and the weakling.

No hope,

just feeding like a leech.

I sit,

contemplate my own existence,

praying I will never be

one of these.

How do we set them free?



HG – 2022

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