When Silence Becomes a Man

They cuffed the boy who dared to cry,

Said, “Real men never tear the sky.”

I watched him break beneath the strain,

But silence sang a softer gain.

My mouth stayed shut—I wore the chain,

For thunder hides its deepest plea—

And silence turned a man of me.

They mocked the man who chose to feel,

And labeled healing as unreal.

He wore his heart without disguise,

But I wore masks to win their prize.

To weep was weak, to talk unwise.

I bit my truth to let it be—

And silence turned a man of me.

They dragged the drunk who lost his spark,

A shadow stumbling through the dark.

He once had dreams—like fire, bold—

Now glass replaced what he can't hold.

I said, “He’s weak,” and watched him fold.

But I drank pride instead of tea—

And silence turned a man of me.

They broke the dad who stayed at home,

And mocked his seat beneath the dome.

A man, they said, must rule the tide,

Not rock the cradle by her side.

I laughed, though pain was hard to hide.

I feared they'd see the dad in me—

And silence turned a man of me.

They jailed the lad who loved his kind,

His rainbow soul deemed too inclined.

I saw him cry behind the bars,

Yet feared the stains on manhood’s stars.

So I walked past with quiet scars.

His truth was loud—I let it flee—

And silence turned a man of me.

They cursed the man who couldn’t fight,

Who chose the pen instead of might.

He wrote of peace while we wore steel,

But I thought war the braver deal.

I mocked his words I now would steal.

But ink was strength I failed to see—

And silence turned a man of me.

Now they come knocking at my soul,

With all I’ve lost to fit the role.

The chains are mine, I forged each link,

With every time I chose not to think.

Now voices drown and spirits sink.

No one left to set me free—

For silence turned a man of me.

©Bunguswa™