Forged or Fractured

There are two hands that shape a man, Not seen but felt in who I am, One speaks in truth, though it may sting, One soothes me soft with poisoned things. One says, “Stand up. Take what is yours. Own every wound and close every door, That leads to weakness, lies, escape; Be forged by fire, not by fate.” The other whispers, smooth and low, “You’ve hurt enough. Just let it go. Numb it. Blame them. Chase relief. You are the victim. Feed the grief.” And I have listened... God I have, In nights that carved me clean in half. When the love I gave was thrown away, And trust bled out without a say. I built a world around her name, Ignored the signs, excused the pain. I Called it love but deep inside, I knew it bent me and broke my stride. She said I lacked, I had no worth, That I deserved a lesser earth. Yet still I stayed, still tried to prove, A man could earn what should be truth. But love that asks you to be small, Is not love but a slow downfall. And heartbreak… it will test your core: Will you become less... or become more? One path says, “Hate her. Harden fast. All women lie. This pain will last. Burn it down. Become the storm. Let bitterness become your form.” The other says, “Stand still and Endure. Don’t lose your code. Stay clean. Stay sure. Let pain refine and not make you cold. You will Break, only to be rebuilt in gold.” So here I stand between the two, A fractured man, yet choosing true. Not perfect... no, but eyes awake, Aware of every choice I make. I’ll take the pain, but not the lie. I’ll let the weaker version die. And if I’m built, then let it be, By truth, by fire... by what makes me free. For in the end, no voice decides, No past, no wound, no shattered pride. A man is shaped by what he does When no one’s there… …and answers to the man he was. -AIG