They say men don’t cry.
They say they don’t cry—not all.
When they hurt themselves,
They don’t cry.
When they lose a game,
They don’t cry.

But sometimes men cry.
When we feel empty,
Like our soul has been sucked dry by the world,
When we just want to die,
But we have to live for other people,
When we feel lonely enough…
Lonely enough to accept
The company of our most intimate demons,
Sometimes men cry.

Men cry the tears
Of poetry shed by our perceptions:
Brutal, misled, hopeless
Analytical thoughts
Tainted by our past,
Perceived by the present,
Tears as faithful as rain falling from the sky.

It’s like receiving a letter stating:
“You’re dead,
Though you’re still alive.”
Your Demise.


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