The last two words heard before the jump.
Knackered, they scraped
From the tarmac like chewed gum –
Spat out and
Flattened in a fleshy puddle of blood and dirt.
If suicide is the biggest killer in men,
Then is it the manly way to go?
You didn’t laugh it off? Man up.
You laughed at a rom-com? Man up.
You cried tears of joy even though she bore a girl not a boy, man up.
But what if
‘Man’ isn’t the hard shell your soul fits?
Or you want to work with children,
Stay at home with the kids?
What if, we cry so much that our own hammers and pistons grow thick with rust?
Weak. Be the bigger man. Don’t be a little girl.
We’re told to screw everything:
Screw all the girls,
Screw together those shelves
That would snap under the pressures of your mind.
Get a grip
And unscrew that jam jar
With your arrogant arms,
But keep your heart and mouth screwed tight –
Impenetrable, jammed shut.
Only open if smashed to shit,
Vomiting emotions across the pub floor,
Don’t bottle it up
Or down the bottles.
Stand and sing
Because a chorus of us will join in,
Unscrewing our lids.