I should have been a snare for human connections,
Licensed to coddle egos at risk,
Swimming in words of praise each day,
Drowning in loneliness with each encounter,
But I am not that man.
I could have been the stranger who screamed injustice
To urge those offended to speak,
Riding the glory of a man outraged,
Clawing through the web of blame each day,
But I am not that person.
I would have been the leader who called for action,
Enticed to stand for something,
Bloated from triumph of wish fulfilled,
Enslaved by an ideal I cannot abandon,
But I am a different person.
I wasn’t the hero who sacrificed honor,
Nor the hustler who wrote poems about etiquette,
I’ve forsaken the praise for a glass of wine,
Exchanged the glory for a moment of silence,
Abandoned the triumph for vague simplicity,
To avoid pondering the face of that person.