Men Do Cry
By Ken Falk 
I heard quite often "men don't cry"
though no one ever told me why
So when I fell and skinned a knee,
no one came by to comfort me.
And when some bully-boy at school
would pull a prank so mean and cruel
I'd quickly learn to turn and quip,
"It doesn't hurt," and bite my lip.
So as I grew to reasoned years,
I learned to stifle my tears.
Though "Be a big boy" it began,
quite soon I learned to "Be a man."
And I could play that stoic 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 surprise,
that all that tearless talk was lies.
And still I cry, and have no shame,
I can not 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.