What are these so called tears,
these streaks of jealousy and pain,
that have the gall to mark my face?

They sting my eyes and sunder my vision,
brewing chaos amidst my thoughts.

I can barely stand
as the throbbing pain my head,
the howling of these tears,
brings me to my knees.

But as the pain subsides
and the mist in my eyes clears,
I realize the truth.

It is not these tears I hear.
It is the wailing of a voice
I know all too well.

I have been deaf to my own weeping,
as I have been blind to my own tears,
numb to my own sorrow.

No longer am I a child,
so no longer shall I wear this mask.
And today I am a man,
for I have learned to cry.