bright red pieces of flesh raw, bleeding
pieced all together in a form of seeking
gotten from marathons, bicycle rides
and old fashioned romp, some are called glory
some are called pride some are called integrity
some are dignified
some are paid for so their loss is a profit
some are swindled away on the promise of bliss
others lost in juvenile delinquency
what they share Is a sob story and a senseless regret
what will man be without foolish stories to till us through
step on fright and increase our strife
if a little piece of flesh is your pride
go then to the butcher’s and retrieve
and attach to your vestige, your prestige
So that it is there never lost, never taken
Maybe just maybe you will feel whole inside
however, in truth a little piece of flesh is not your pride
just a piece of flesh and you are whole and beautiful besides.
by
Victor Samuel
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