What must it be like to be
A bloody Son of Mars
All veins in the teeth ugly
All hateful fights and wars.

Life must be a sandbox
Of tit-for-tat squabble
"What he's got I ain't got!"
Redressed by constant struggle.

Behind all that scramble an infant
Who never fully grows up
Any fairness forever absent
From this alpha male wolf pup.

No one but he deserves a thing
What others have must be taken
Above the rest, he must be king
Even amidst his children.

Driven by anger and hellfires
He fights with sword and shield
No relief he finds when he retires
How does a true warrior exit the field?

That would mean losing position
In the strict order of primates
Giving of an inch a fraction
To all of the people he hates.

If he could have just found a new frequency
If he hadn't been such a fool
If only he'd had the decency
To have a breakdown so he could retool.

To his demons and ghosts he now grovels
Taxing even his genius for charm
Over his life's work they hold gavel
Only goodheartedness will keep him from harm.

So this towering mental giant
Who viewed all others as idiots
Must simper and be compliant
To those he thought mental midgets.

How these most capable creatures
(Proof they are the world's most perverse?)
Could miss that losing their features
Would turn all the swords in reverse?
© 2002 by Michael J. Farrand

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