EDDIEHQ

Tired of Being a Guy

I’m tired of the armor I never asked for,
The grunt and nod, the locker room lore.
The heavy hands and hollow cheers,
The silence stuffed behind the years.

Tired of strong when I feel small,
Of standing straight when I might fall.
Of fixing things I didn’t break,
Of swallowing pain for manhood’s sake.

I’m tired of jokes with jagged teeth,
Of never showing what’s beneath.
Of “man up,” “toughen,” “don’t you cry”—
Like tears could make me less alive.

I’m tired of roles with rigid lines,
Of fighting wars that aren’t just mine.
Of never dancing through the dark,
Or speaking soft to leave a mark.

I want to be more than muscle and might,
More than shadows in dim streetlight.
I want to breathe without the mask,
To be a man—without the task

Twin Ravens

I sit in the silence, alone with my art,
pouring out pieces torn straight from my heart.
I sculpt every lyric, each note, every line,
yet the world passes by, as if none of it’s mine.

I walk through the forest, the rivers, the rain,
they comfort my spirit, they soften the pain.
I live without cruelty, my choices are kind,
but still, I am nameless, still left behind.

Why is my song met with nothing but air?
Why is my love for creation so bare?
Why can’t they see all the truth that I give?
Why don’t they praise me for choosing to live?

I’m eccentric, esoteric—too strange, I suppose,
so few start a conversation, so few ever chose.
But beneath all the silence, my hope still breaks through:
I’d love for someone—maybe You—to talk to me too.

Yet still, I keep writing, I still strike the chord,
though no one is clapping, no crown, no award.
For beauty itself is the breath I endure,
I’ll keep on creating—
until I can’t anymore.

Rare Energy

For years I wore a borrowed face,
A mask shaped by pain, held tight in place.
I danced in circles not made for my feet,
Attracting echoes—wounded, incomplete.

We met in mirrors of mutual ache,
Their scars like mine, not quite fake.
But each of them, a stepping stone,
Guiding me back to my truth alone.

They came not to stay, but to show—
Who I was not, and help me grow.
Through chaos cloaked in sweet disguise,
I learned to hear my spirit’s cries.

Now, I am me—raw, refined, and whole,
With steady heart and sovereign soul.
No longer reaching just to be seen,
But rooted deep in what I mean.

Fewer footsteps now approach my light,
But I shine too rare for the common night.
Only those with dreams in their stride,
And truth in their hearts, may walk beside.

Loneliness lingers, yes, it’s true—
But I won’t trade my peace to feel untrue.
Gone are the days I’d shrink to belong,
I’ve grown too firm, I’ve grown too strong.

Kind, intelligent, alive and free—
I am the version I was meant to be.
And when the one who matches me appears,
They’ll be worth the wait, the growth, the years.

So I remain open, steady, bold—
Attracting love too rare to be sold.
For energy calls what energy is,
And I, at last, know who I am—and this
Is how the real magic begins.