41 - Invisible Tears

In the past, 

I believed I was weak. 

Be strong, 

I told myself. 

Men don’t cry. 

Be a real man. 

That’s what society taught me.

Suppress the feelings. 

Push through the day. 

It’s just a sad phase, I told myself. 

Even though I didn’t believe it. 

But that’s what the world said to do.

Later, I realised,

it wasn’t sadness. 

Not loneliness. 

It was pain. 

Imprinted in the soul.

In the short term, 

it’s easier to put a lid on it. 

Pretend it’s not there. 

Ignore it. 

Deny it.

But deep down, 

I knew whatever I buried was still brewing.

Growing slowly. 

Manifesting through my actions. 

Until one day,

a memory, 

a familiar sight, 

a trigger

and it explodes.

Not just revealing itself, 

but taking a piece of my soul as collateral damage.

Bit by bit, 

it eroded me. 

Until I couldn’t recognise who I used to be.

Couldn’t recover. 

Couldn’t be whole again.

The wounds may close, 

but they close deformed. 

Leaving scars. 

Permanent. 

Unforgiving.

A heavy reminder of everything I tried to suppress. 

This world made me that way. 

It didn’t let me cry when I needed to cry.

Didn’t let me grieve 

when I needed to feel the pain.

Only scream with no sound.

We are real-life Frankenstein’s monsters. 

Made by a society that worships money,

conformity, 

and aesthetic. 

If you don’t fit the mold, 

you’re cast aside. 

Or reshaped until you do.

“Men don’t cry,” they say. 

But the truth is

we do. 

Just not where they can see it.

Every day, 

We shed invisible tears

Eroding our souls 

Like rivers carving canyons through stone,

Our invisible tears shape the soul

not gently, 

but relentlessly.

And maybe, 

the soul we become is not broken

just reshaped 

by the tears no one saw.