The Death of Man
The death of man is humiliation.
We banter pride like leprosy,
Confuse it with arrogance but
The death of man is humiliation.
The small child in the corner
Coming out fighting, teeth bared
Slung back, weakened but not forgetting,
The death of man is humiliation.
The single mom, no money for nylons
Damn the dress code, but a slip of paper later
Tells that the death of man is humiliation.
He tosses the ball to his son nightly
Goes to work daily.
A beer now and then, but she leaves anyway
The death of man truly is humiliation.
Sandra K. Woodiwiss © 2012
