when
you see one.
maybe a little gruff,
some sort
of facial hair,
some leather,
perhaps a tattoo or
two
leaking ink
on his muscled arms.
brooding,
daring you to make
eye contact.
when did they
decide that
this was who they'd be.
you can't help
but wonder though,
if there's
a mother's child
inside.
a little boy wanting
to be free.
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