What does it mean to truly be a man?
The world claims to know the truth, be a man.
Scornful eyes judging, the jury agrees
you don’t have what it takes to be a man.
Model humans, made of some lean plastic,
they dance for their masters to be a man.
You are a mouse trapped in their jungle,
Hyenas laughing, ‘you can’t be a man!’
Damsels need saving, you must be their shield.
Turn flesh and bone into steel, be a man.
You are not Depp, Tatum, Beckham or Pine,
women will not think you can be a man.
Words, like glass daggers, will always cut deep
to write in your blood: ‘you must be a man.’
Stomach like a shovel, arms of veined iron,
your body is not your own, be a man.
You must be the leader, take full control,
to follow means you cannot be a man.
The fear burrows its way inside. You ask
your reflection, ‘Self, can I be a man?’
Their voices haunt you, chains around your throat.
Be strong, be calm, be in charge, be a man.
The heart is a weakness, ignore its call.
Feelings prevent you from being a man.
Six packs are the six closest friends you need.
Chisel them from marble and be a man.
Wear a shell; it is your only armor.
They can’t see you refuse to be a man.
The struggle many suffer in secret,
stop your whining, boy, and be a man