Does he cry? The beard on his face And the biceps murmured. Yes, he too cries, The empty whiskey bottle And the butted cigarettes protested. He too has eyes, of course,it produces tears And not water. The pent up suffocation and Incomprehensible emotion Combat for freedom. Made one or two excuses, Shut himself up for a day, Cried for a long night, Over the love of his life, Over the wasted years, Withered dreams, Betrayed chums Secluded failures And the dead cat. When your so-called wolf Cries, The ground neither shakes nor trembles, The sky never falls. The satellite society fails To recognise the depressive males, To console them Or to embrace them And to see a heart inside them. The beast is not solely muscular, 'Femininity' weeps inside the dark lands of their hearts. You have hammered the thoughts That bald is not okay, That intellect men are best But it's okay to be You It's okay to be different and imperfect. You constantl
Expressions penned with feathery Excalibur!