Wearing Large Shoes
I have a very good friend who is an oxymoron,
he is a Human Tajitu, a specimen of dualism.
At times, he is the worst of people, a fiend,
so devilish that he becomes my enemy.
But is not every Human such a being?
My friend is tall, called lanky by his so-called foes,
and his exaggerated stature is without benefit.
His heavy head sits wonkily on his thin frame,
the subject of many ignorant jokes.
My friend laughs at the small and the stout,
pleasurably, without regret nor guilt.
He is afraid of the handicapped,
he avoids them at all costs.
My friend has a father who has an unhealthy rage,
he hates this world, this country, his job, his life.
He takes it out on his loved ones, son and wife,
and he lets nobody stand in his way.
My friend has inherited this unhealthy rage,
he hates this world and this country.
He takes it out on his friends,
but they only fight back.
My friend considers himself to be working class,
something of a socialist, and a liberal.
He wishes for a fairer world,
where he can be happy.
My friend is burdened by an arrogant countenance,
he becomes bitter whenever he is inferior.
His ambition is stretched unhealthily,
his delusions make him unhappy.
I have a very good friend who is an oxymoron,
he is a Human Tajitu, a specimen of dualism.
At times, he is the best of people, a saint,
so angelic that he is like a hero of myth.
But is not every Human such a being?
It is said that white and black are extremes of grey,
and therefore that all people are a shade of grey.
But do people not change with mood and nurture?
Perhaps it is more normal to flicker between darkness and brightness,
between malevolence and benevolence,
sadness and happiness,
hatred and love.
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Thanks for your advice, Aussie. It was intended to be slightly essayish (it's a poetic analysis, and I have poetic license 
), but I can see where you're coming from-it is a bit dull. I'll edit it a bit soon, but, for now, I must procrastinate.
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
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Hi there! I read your poem. Here's what I have to say about it:
). Try flowing a little more. When I say that, I don't mean you should change the style, just give the poem a little more room to breathe. Have fun editing!
It read a little bit like an essay for a history class or something. LIke, Introduction: I have a friend who is an oxymoron; Body: here's why he's like an oxymoron; Conclusion: We're all shades of gray. Um . . . hmm? So basically it felt like your conclusion had little to do with the rest of the poem. You might want to rethink that. Also, I admire your structure; very firm. But again, it felt like an essay with line breaks. I'm not sure you want to leave it like it is; try working in some imagery (everyone says that, it's so annoying
Toodles!