It's a curse, indeed, to be born a man,
Don't take offense, for I'll explain my plan.
A curse, I tell you, for your made up of muscles, strength, and more,
Labeled the sole earner, you toil at the core.
You soil and toil, sweat not in vain,
A shield mightier than Captain America to maintain,
Boys don't cry, immune to pain
A sturdy oak 'midst the storm's disdain.
Your frozen tears become whips, nails, and hammers,
For you hail from Mar anger is your only glamour.
The house trembles at your mighty stride,
Remote in hand, tones within your guide.
Boundaries drawn, society's correlate,
Consent leaves the room when you with a woman of course men don't hesitate
your the lion leading your pride
Silence is your language, you only roar when something isn't right.
In glittery drinks, amidst a comforting darkness
When realization strikes, revealing the mess
Old wounds reborn, naked and torn,
Collapsed, perhaps a thought to adorn.
If only, just maybe, we could try,
Let them speak, feel, and not deny,
That men are only human, they do cry.
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