Am I not a man?
Am I not allowed my imperfections?
My simple needs.
My voracious wants.

Shall I camouflage my desires
Behind closed doors?
Do I set boundaries
Only to violate them?

Am I not given to trumpet my victories
And disguise my failures?
Do I not tout the greatness of me
While minimizing others?

Why should I not be me?
Is my countenance so wickedly unsuitable
That I must hide in your pantry
Amongst the other boxes and cans?

I was born with broken parts.
My shell was cracked long ago.
A misshapen vessel
Limping in a world of predators.

Who shall I be then?
Less than me?
More than I am capable?
A pretender to the throne?

Am I not entitled to fall?
Am I not driven to rise?
Shall I hide my scars?
Smiling while enduring my pain.

What more must I do?
Who more should I be?
How do I escape from the clutches of ego
Whilst recognizing the truth of self-esteem?

Am I not a man?
With all my flaws and shortcomings?
Am I not but one of many?
Am I not you?