The Only Man I Fear

I fear no man.

Not the ones who talk loud,

not the ones who walk proud.

Not the ones who flash steel or wear crowns.

No…

I only fear the one staring back when the world goes silent.

He knows everything I’ve buried under my breath,

every sin that clings to my ribs like regret.

He’s the one who watched me crawl out of the fire

and still asks if I deserve to be free.

He knows the weight of my hands,

the things they’ve held, the things they’ve done,

and how quick they can turn gentle into gone.

I fear no man

except the ghost that wears my skin.

He’s the judge, the jury,

the whisper that says, “You’ll never win.”

He’s the only one who can break me,

because he’s the only one who made me.

I’ve stood in front of giants,

and I didn’t blink.

I’ve walked through storms that swallowed lesser men whole,

and I didn’t sink.

But when I face my reflection,

there’s no shield, no mask, no gun

just truth.

And truth cuts deeper than any blade under the sun.

See, I don’t fear death.

I fear doubt.

That creeping whisper that starts inside and spills out.

The kind that sounds like my own voice

telling me I am not enough.

That’s the war I keep fighting

and losing sometimes

but never giving up.

I fear no man.

Not the world, not the devil, not the grave.

Only the one in the mirror,

because he’s the only one I still have to save.

So when I look him in the eyes,

I don’t flinch.

I nod.

Because I know what he’s capable of

and so does he.

The day I stop fearing him

is the day he wins.

And I’m not done fighting me yet.

But women?

Yeah… that’s a whole different kind of danger.

You can armor your heart, steady your aim

and still get taken out by a smile and the scent of perfume.

© 2026 A Broken Poet

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