Boys Don’t Cry
You know this saying we often hear, Boys Don’t Cry? That men never show emotion?
But you know what?
They do.
They cry in their dreams at night when the world doesn’t know or care that they aren’t sleep
In the nightmares that plague them, the memories that haunt them, in the voices that never leave them
They cry into the bottles they clutch onto, the alcohol they consume to drown out the voices, the hurt and the pain
They cry into the arms of the women they fall for, in words in the tales that tell of things that hurt them
They cry into the nicotine that swallows that pain as it soothes their anxieties and settles like a shadow of hope in their bosom only to blacken and taint their sanity a bit more
They cry into the vaginas of the women they fuck, the ones they use to dull the numbing pain of their loneliness
Telling themselves that a physical release would ease that mental and emotional agony
They cry into the vehicles they command, the anger they unleash, the road rage they revel in as they try to control that which they have no control over
Like molten lava spewing down the volcanoes of their very soul as it burns the semblance of their existence and covers any modicum of hope for normalcy
They cry and they bleed
And on this sea of tearful agony
Do our society’s stereotypes feed
