Once Upon a time when not much was mine there lived a man,
He had two eyes, one nose, and two mouths.
They called him the median man.
All that he ever did was pushed towards the center,
When he spoke he was no ones mentor,
And when he wrote, his words were those of a centaur.
Travelling around on his hind legs
He often saw the gentleman’s club
And often ended up in his lonesome tub.
While soaking away his insecurities and fears,
His inner thoughts were controlled by gears,
They revolved on axles that creating his ancient tears.
While staring starry eyed into his reflection,
He deeply studied all the parcels that created his complexion.
Was there life within this withered leaf?
Or a man who had lost all of his beliefs,
Through societies obscurities and unknown relics.
One would say this man was timid,
Or perhaps very sad yet vivid.
He spoke through his snarling flaming breaths:
Ode to those who judge and write what they have not yet began to visit,
And shame on those who sit around in transit.
A tear to those who have but a tear to cry and a soul inside to fly.
I’ve been born, I have sinned, I am hate, and I am all that is too late!