An Old Lie

When I was young, I was told an old lie. 

That it is simply not right, for a grown man to cry. 

Excepting of course, if there's a thing in your eye. 

 

I guess it's okay, with a skin full of malt.

But into the wounds, you'll tend to pour salt.

Punching the wall, because you know it's your fault.

 

Remorse and loss there's no room for them here.

But if I'm honest last night, I did shed a tear.