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Man

by Uriel Tovar

To form man
An image you tell me
I’m far from--
A clay remaining
Unmolded
Or image
Unfulfilled
Because my hands
Are like soft
Silken
Mitts
And
They will never
Stifle life
Within their grasps
Man is not a beast
And your misconception
Is why love eludes you
Because you don’t understand that
Man
Is the person who
Can own their actions
Despite
What society might
Dictate.

12/17/2012

Posted on 12/18/2012
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 12/18/12 at 01:22 AM

We were all molded, yes. But to what degree is molding and the out growth of it also a matter of imperceptible imperfections in our brain that cause what ever molding our parents, teachers, etc may have had on our lives to be twisted and not a reflection of reality. And to what degree does this take away from our ability to make realistic decisions that allow us to fit successfully into society? We are not generally born beasts nor are we born stamped with an unchangeable personality. Happen stance however can sure turn us into beasts if our perceptions of reality are altered. Certainly a thought provoking poem.

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