The Man Who Never Cried

There once lived a man who never cried.

At every crossroad someone passed him by,

They saw not even a single tear in his eye,

Not even when his little boy died.

To think he was once daring and bold,

Where, when, how did the lad lose his spirit at all?

Accompanied by none—he'd cross the hall,

Forget who he was within the four walls adorned with gold.

The rocks he would pick by the lakeside,

Search for hope, then light up two cigars,

All he desired for was to travel as far as the stars,

Wait he did; yet he only knew how to hide.

He wished he was the one who never saw the sun,

Instead barbarous destiny chose his child,

His eyes filled up as the memories reconciled,

Yet the water would halt for the past is the past; it's never redone.

He stared at his reflection for a long long while,

Then stumbled on a pebble or so I reclaim,

The flesh strode away with the ocean to blame,

What's that he got on his face? At last, it was a weary smile.

And so the legend goes of the man who never cried,

I now know it was because they never let him be a boy,

Oh, the very tears he never shed had him destroyed,

At last he lay, surrounded by the mist he was always denied.

~The Mortal Morph

Finally a poem written at a sane hour. Anyway, this one is a narration of how screwed up it can be to hold in your emotions and what it can lead to. In a world that makes apathy seem cool, the ones actually suffering from the contents of it have forgotten what it's like to feel and as long as we keep telling little boys to not cry like girls, that's never going to change.

Thanks for giving it a read!