To Make A Grown Man Cry

It always sounds lovely

to make a grown man cry.

But I recoil at his sadness,

when he sees the blood

of wounds he never cared to pack.

Paramnesia;

We all make mistakes.

We all deserve a little grace.

A ghost, maybe a mother

or a sister, says,

“No, child, keep screaming.”

But once I say it, I don't mean it.

Once I raise my hand,

I'm the hitter.

I raise my voice, and I'm the man.

Maybe that’s why I sob

when I push the words out. 

I want to be a baby.

I don’t want to be like him.