As a giant,

I have stepped

Over oceans, across where

Women’s tears, were spilled by my presence.

I have a presence

Too sinister, to recognize kindness,

Either upon myself

Or from others.

I have stepped, as I said

Over oceans,

Made of women’s tears.

I am a man, who has not seen gentleness,

Just a giant, who only knows strength

For himself.

Why would gentleness want this

When a giant cannot be gentle

As a giant?

Love is for me,

When I am no giant,

When I can be gentle, before beauty.

No flower to crush,

No tears to step through

Like any puddle.

I pick up a stone,

And attempt to squeeze its contents

And no tears come out,

Because I cannot crush my own heart.