top of page

Do Men Suffer At All?

Feb 9, 2023
2 min read

By Juhi Gautam


He stood on the balcony

with silence and fear

that someone would spot him

and silence his tears,

Tears, which would proclaim him weak

Coz boys don't cry is what he weeps

about day and night thinking crying would make him less of a boy. Black Pink or Pink Floyd he can’t make no choice.

Boys will be boys is what he keeps hearing

and questions if it is his fault that he is born a boy,

In a world where every man is looked down upon,

because man! A few dogs down the street treat women like pawn.

Boys don't know what girls go through

is what he gets to hear in school

a day after his uncle invaded his territory,

Clawing out his dignity from his pool

of emotions.




For donkey’s years he kept mum,

as he was afraid of being made an object of fun.

Because boys are meant to fight back,

he’s an exception, can’t society cut him some slack?

While shaving his non-existent beard

in a hope that it grows faster,

He wants the world to judge his heart

and not his lateness in taking a girl’s ‘flower’.

While pulling out a chair for a girl at a restaurant, he wonders whether he can ‘Pull-for’ himself when he sees his own life shattering in front of his eyes. But at that very moment, fixing a broken facade is more important than fixing the broken pieces of his life.

It is not only girls, boys suffer too.

Black Pink or Pink Floyd?

Black Pink he’ll now choose.

So that when we talk of abuse,

Even men can stand up and say


By Juhi Gautam






Recent Posts

See All
Dumb or In Love

By Kavya Mehulkumar Mehta are poets dumb — or just in love? to the world, they may seem dumb, but for them, love is inevitable. poems are reminders of love that can’t be forgotten, shan’t be forgotten

 
 
 
A Future So Azure

By Inayah Fathima Faeez Tomorrow looms unsure, muffled by the deep Thumbs twiddling, barriers never-ending, failure and nothing to reap At the shore lie the choices, imposing, leading to journeys impo

 
 
 
Letting Go In Layers

By Inayah Fathima Faeez Some part of us is cold and shrivelled, In a body of seemingly endless depth. Some part of us is heavy and dishevelled, Misery filling an unending breadth. Some part of us is

 
 
 

Comments

Rated 0 out of 5 stars.
No ratings yet

Add a rating
bottom of page