They say that men don’t shed a tear,
That strength is silence, year after year,
But in the shadows, where no one sees,
Men carry heartache, down on their knees.
Behind the smile, behind the pride,
There’s a storm that they must hide.
For in their tears, they fear the shame,
Of feeling fragile, broken, and tame.
But men do cry when the night is long,
When the weight of the world feels all wrong.
In whispered sobs, in silent pain,
Their tears fall like quiet rain.
In that release, the heart will mend,
For crying doesn’t mean the end.
It means they’re human, raw and true—
And strength, sometimes, is feeling too.

.    .    .