CRY

Deep down me There is a boy

He is almost like me, he loves to enjoy

The greatest gift he has is, that he can cry

I tried to do the same but, my eyes are arid dry

 

 

Sometimes I ask myself, why cannot I cry? 

The answers is my upbringing, that I cannot justify

Some think that I’m heartless, some think I am mean

Understand me dear, this is not what I always had been

 

My grandpa had always taught me, crying is not for boys

So suppressing my tears , became my choice 

My granny always told me, crying makes a boy weak

So I trained my eyes, not to react quick 

 

As I was growing up, there came my friends 

And they too never cried, they were well trained 

When I look back  at my school life, there used to be a boy 

Crying was a part of him but there were moments of joy

 

My father wanted me to be strong, to be a man 

Well certainly in his advices, crying was a total ban 

Mother was a bit sensitive, she heard my inner voice

She too didn’t want to see me being “so called” weak, she wanted me to rejoice 

 

My brother is fierce, thinks crying is for babies 

Who knows what he has suppressed deep within, there could be something... maybe 

Well there comes my sister, crying once in a while 

To persuade father to do what she wants, we thought it’s her style 

 

What I think as a grown up is, crying isn’t just the tears 

I believe it’s a way to get rid of, the inner fears

science proves that it’s a way of boosting up your mood 

Self soothing isn’t just a benefit, for eyes too crying is good

 

I know all these things, I know them by heart 

Today I realise knowledge is not the only thing,  to make you smart

I feel the pain, I try to cry 

No matter how much it hurts, my eyes are desert dry