It's men

from the rubbish we were fed, that accolades as men goes with how many you have smashed, That Jackie Chan was more of a hero than was that politician, how we were fed that guns were masculine and dolls feminine, from that lack of care for humanine, and lack of dads for little ones resulted, I'm wondering now I'm insulted, supposed I'm cheered or celebrated for keeping all that my mind was filtrated with, heard them say men are dog, suppose when we cry we viewed as ones who barks, and when we scream, we viewed as crazy little puppy, then which other way would we hunt for the bone to feed that soul except robbing from sole( provider) I'm tired of titles crowned in my head, and for hard earned streams I'm capped, perhaps if we can can we and be, I assure to carry thee from the deeds of her will to purpose of him who did, men cry, men mourn, men have wounds, women suffers, women mourn, also got wounds, then can we all plaster our pain, and let go of strain and train to move forward the trail and let go of past strains and dirty stains our face has faced, Aygee the poet