IT’S A GUY THING

IT’S A GUY THING

Narcissus stared into the water until he died
locked into the image of his pride

Trying to embrace it made it fly
teardrops spoiled it if he’d cry

No thirst would make him think
to spoil it with his lips to drink

Self love was not the nymph’s dire curse
but love of image which is much much worse