What’s Truly in Your Heart?

You scream out loud, you wish we loved more.
You wish we were tender, less a jour.
And yet you, too, shriek that we
Are all violent creatures
Not capable of anything
But being angry.

How are we expected to love that
Which disdains us, that what
Hates us in ways so verbose.
Your words, us, can still cut.
Think of the words you chose
To describe the ones you also hold close.

Because just as a man’s actions
Toward his daughter, shuns
Her confidence away like scared mice
A woman’s words so morose
Can, a boy, into pieces slice
And the man he would be, chill to ice.

You may think us all pigs
Only out to get in between your legs.
But most of us, too, want love exquisite.
Our shells are as fragile as eggs,
So next time before you say it,
Your words hurt us too, we just can’t say it.

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After reading a particular book of poems, that appeared to depict all men as angry, violent sex offenders, I couldn't help but feel sad. In no way to I try to discount this poet's experiences, but to attribute such things to all men was painful. Not only am I nothing, as a father nor a husband, like the men this poet seems to view us to be, but I found it incredibly insulting that I would automatically be associated with such things. Yes, there are a few bad men out there, but most of us are not.