This gold bar will oxidize more
Rusting onto my hand
There is blood on this marble floor
Stained glass windows are only sand

There is a crown split in four
There are holes in the door
And this is the life you call luxury?

You made these diamonds with chemicals
And try to bribe me with emeralds
But I will not let them touch me

What turns to ash?
What turns to fame?
What is cash?
What is a name?

Our lights are as bright as gold
Twinkling stars over my head
They turn green, turn to mold
I turn to hope instead

We as men must never cry
Through storms of mourns
We silenced the child within
We mold our glass hearts thicker
To barricade what we feel inside

We as men must never cry
We grit our teeth we swallow the wit
Throb to surpass whatever that comes
To ignite the spark that dimmed the night

We as men must never cry
Despite the nest we found
Hope of walls of wars that we must break
To pierce through and prevail the truth

We as men must never cry
To succour the seeds of tomorrow
Let yesterday's pain be tainted
A reminder that we're still breathing

We as men must never cry
But when we do—
We can no longer hide behind curtain's facade
Let it be the rain that stains our hands,
Adolescence of innocence strayed of conscience,
As we dig through years of silence,
Wishing someone told us sooner

That real men are allowed to cry.


Erennwrites

Moulds and mold
Shape it right or let it rot
Meanings to words
As you seek