The faces stare out <br /> chiseled proud and bold <br /> with polished cheeks, <br /> their character defined. <br />No monument shows <br /> heroes silly, kind or frail. <br />These giants look down <br /> stoic, cold. <br />You face the world <br /> resolved to make your day. <br />You strut and lean in <br /> to intimidate. <br /> When charm won't trick, <br /> you'll then manipulate or bully <br /> to insure you get your way. <br />But like geologists <br /> who chip then name each strata, <br /> I have tracked your faults and <br /> mapped your self-contempt, <br /> your molten fury, <br /> trapped deep pits of prejudice, <br /> frustration, shame. <br />Your fierce facade <br /> is just a thick veneer to hide <br /> your guilt and <br /> cowardice and fear.<br /><br />Glen Martin Fitch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mount-rushmore-2/
