tears and men are a problem, to be honest. i cry far too easily, whether happy or sad. that bothers me, not because i’m a merely man. it bothers me that it happens too frequently…what’s gained? nothing that i can quantify…
oh dear, here come tears again,
dripping down stubbled cheeks;
for males like me, what’s to gain?
i’m sure that i look womanly-weak;
what language does leakage speak?
oh dear, tears so easily triggered,
(women seem to quite impressed
when I admit) – males merely snigger
and ask me where I left my dress;
- tighten that tap, never confess!
what useful purpose weeping tears?
emotional raindrops readily unnerve;
better wait till the coast is clear
before sobbing; why not conserve
feelings for those that really deserve.
is this really kindly compassion?
is salt-water mere vain venting?
this man-weakness not in fashion;
how about occasionally absenting
naked openness – what’s preventing?
is empathy proven by waste water?
pathetic such snivel, little purpose,
except when burying my baby daughter
– not then happy-sad clown in circus;
inarticulate sounds I have in surplus…