Sadness.
We often learn to
Hammer nails in our eyes
To stop tears from
Making it out alive.
Nail by nail, the emotional
Rapport with self that dies
And the attitude to fix
Everything by hiding it-
Good at erecting walls
Around our emotions
And vulnerabilities.
Brick by brick-
A seven-storied building,
That learns to smile.
Knowing each other's
Conditioned compulsions-
The son and father,
Unable to hug each other.
Unable to console a friend,
Unable to help mom in
The kitchen.
Unable to understand
My brother's depression.
We, with clenched hearts,
Closed minds.
Who can fix your broken
Bikes or leaky taps-
But unable to soothe
Your ailing hearts.
We who can laugh loud and
Argue ourselves to death.
But fail to look at the mirrors
And talk to ourselves.
This distance between
You and us, and the
Deep trench-like emptiness,
That keeps on sinking,
Within for generations.
It has set a precedent for
A supposed masculinity.
A bear with muscles,
Moustache and beard.
Dictating constantly
About how-
There's a manly glory in
Being a corpse than
A teary-eyed pussy.
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