Written by By Ken Falk
I heard quite often" men don't cry” though noone ever told me why
So when I fell and skinned a knee, no one came to comfort me.
And when some bully-boy at school would pull a prank so mean and cruel,
I'd quickly learnto turn and quip, " It doesn't hurt" and bite my lip.
So as I grew to reasoned years, I learned to stifle any tears.
Though " Be a big boy " it began, quite soon I learnt to " Be a man".
And I could play that stoik role while storm and tempest wracked my soul.
No pain or setback, could there be could wrest one single tear from me .
Then one long night , I stood nearby and helplessly watched my son die.
And quickly found , to my suprise , that all that tearless talk was lies.
And still I cry , and have no shame. I cannot play that " big boy" game.
And openly without remorse, I let my sorrow take its course.
So those of you who can't abide a man you've seen , who's often cried,
reach out to him with all your heart as one whose life's been torn apart.
For men DO cry when they can see their loss of immortality.
And tears will come in endless streams when mindless fate destroys their dreams.
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