Man

He walks the world with steady eyes, A storm behind a calm disguise. Not built of steel, nor flesh alone— But of a will that stands unknown. Not strength of fists or iron form, But strength to shelter through the storm. To bear the fears he never names, To keep alight his children's flames. He holds the weight of silent needs, Of broken dreams, of mouths to feed. His every choice a sacrifice, His smile the mask he wears twice. The world applauds the ones who fight, But not the ones who stay each night— Who rise again, though sleep is thin, And give away their soul to win. He is the harbor, calm and wide, Where all find peace, though none reside. And though his knees begin to fall, He stands—for love has made him tall. it But oh, the cost of being strong, When silence is where tears belong. When asking help feels like defeat, And rest, a guilt he can't repeat. So hear the cries beneath his skin, The quiet ache, the held-within. And know that strength is not to hide— But sharing pain, and still having pride.