Boys Don't Cry

If only silence could speak.

You would hear my heart
crying from somewhere
that I thought I buried deep.

Muffled by the words
on repeat.

“Crying is for the weak.”

So, I bite my tongue
and ignore the water
that fills my eyes,
begging to cry
at least one tear
this time.

Burying my sadness

while trying to prove
“I am the man.”
Because “boys don’t cry,”
especially not men.

With society pressing
against my neck,
and fearing you’ll
see me as the man
you regret choosing.

I’m forced to rise above it,
the pressure from
societal norms,
and the pressure to be
the perfect husband.

See, men are supposed
to be the leaders of the pack.

But I thought when life got rough,
and the responsibility of being
a man got too heavy,
that the pack would
have my back.

I guess it’s true what they say,
“The top is lonely.”

So, what am I left with?
Oh, that’s right…
Just all my pent-up emotions
that leak out
in
the form of rage.

My double-edged sword
whose bite is always
bigger than its bark.

Offering me a way
out of my suffering,
but at what cost?

Seeing only red,
losing myself,
and everything
I worked so hard
to obtain.

Lashing out,
wishing someone would
see it as a cry for help.

With no judgment,
just let me
open the floodgates.
For my eyes
that have been
running dry.
Begging me to
end this drought.

Instead, I’m forced
to retreat
to my solitude.

Boy, if only silence could speak,
but a man has to stand
on his own two feet.

So the cycle continues,
and I’ll end up
never grabbing a tissue.

Because boys don’t cry,
especially not men,
we bury our sadness
and only allow
our rage
to disguise itself
as strength.