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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2056343
I'm still a virile male.
I watch movies that make me weep,
Behind closed doors unseen,
When the mewling doesn't matter,
Teardrops will wash me clean.

I welcome those times to blubber,
Not sure the logic why,
Like a backward little school girl,
I'll hide away and cry.

Now, I'm as much a virile man,
As you shall ever meet,
Yet the way I sob and boohoo,
Would knock you off your feet.

I've found no good reason to change,
Actually, I'm proud,
But crying is a private thing,
I'd rather not wail loud.

After I've whimpered all I can,
And dried up all the tears,
I'll join my most manly men friends,
And have a couple of beers.

Women, I deeply love them so,
I think I understand,
The strong emotions they endure,
I've felt it from firsthand.

So don't you try to be my judge,
And label me as frail,
Even though I'll cry a river,
I'm still a macho male.



 
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