chrisk.art.blog

By the nostrils let out the air —at least, I knew I was alive after surging endlessly the ends of my agitating mind. I can’t hold it in anymore
—and alas, a string of tears drooped down on my thighs
thus shuttering the construct that made me a man
The gods must be ashamed of me—the be a man cult, I broke it finally
Before I sobbed again, voices from my breasts and the voices from with out, came urging I be a man: stiff like steel, brave like a lion, and indifferent like a stoic
“Wipe out your tears and be a man!” the chorus urged me
I hear you all sing “be a man! Be a man”. I have heard you say all is well. Yet here I’m, sinking into abyss and if only tears and cries are what make my heart feel light, my eyes will rain torrents
For a moment let me first be a being before a man
Who knows, the trees and the stones may tilt their ears to bear my plea
Let me be a being who has veins in which sweet blood flows not a man so stiff and cold
Let me be a being with a heart so soft and tender
A heart that beats. A heart that feels, not a man so wooden
Let me not be man but a being with a skin that isn’t undeserving of gentle caresses
Not a mannequin indifferent to sweet and pain
Let me not be a river narrow of its course when it shall gush over her banks
Let me be a being, not a sea steady above yet groans under her belly
I’m a human with a heart that throbs
A skin so soft and tender that feels
I will sob and I will weep. And if these makes me unmanly, look the other side and just let me be
I will sigh. I will cry. I will shout and if the shouting creaks your ears to deafening, pad your ears with wool and let me be
I will vent out my suppressed rage and the winds will incline and gladly listen
I will weep out the burdens on my breasts and the sun, the moon and the stars will tarry to see me cry
I will inundate my heart with the flowing tears from my eyes and away they will void my inners of the pool of burdens and the cult they say makes me man