When men cry

vikas chandra

A myth, a lie, that men don’t cry, they do, may be more, for sure
For ends profound, heart rears the yields of passion with tears
Waterworks of God, labor to refine, idol called man, with lachrymal cure
Beyond that flinty façade, lies a poised soul that cries and cares

“Passion personified”, yes man, God’s boon or blunder, hard to tell
It wins him the universe, loses him the heart, pure obsession at play
Mars who spars, Cupid who loves, two spirits in him both dwell
Ordained to hold the moans within, see the masculine man at display

Do only feeble men sob, macho men never tried, never failed?
A man who sobs, is still alive with a heart that loves and gives
Has kept alive that child in him, for mother’s milk who wailed
Crying implies divine strength, for a man who forgets and forgives

A prejudice of genres…

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