A Man Like Him

A man sits back in a brown leather chair
and contemplates his own monstrosity,

allows himself
to remember

that he is sitting upon remains,
that his throne is made of death,

that it is so soft
he can’t rise from it; 

weeping for his monstrous 
comfort, he stays seated,

claiming that it’s better 
that a man like him

is the one
warming the seat

than some more monstrous bastard,
wouldn’t you agree?

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

2 responses to “A Man Like Him

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