They told me to toughen up, stand tall, don’t break—

Swallow the pain, never show what’s at stake.

Don’t ask for help, just grit your teeth,

Bury the fear, lock it underneath.

But tell me, what’s so strong about breaking alone?

Why’s a man only worth what he carries on his own?

If silence is power, then why do I scream?

If strength means struggle, then what does it mean?

I’m done playing a part in a story so old,

What it means to be a man—I won’t be controlled.

Bottle it up, they say, push it aside,

But the weight of it all keeps crushing my pride.

They call it weakness when you fall to your knees,

But who’s left standing when you can’t even breathe?

If we all break, then why hide the scars?

Why do they teach us to battle in the dark?

If silence is strength, then why am I weak?

If men never cry, then why can’t I speak?

I’m done being a statue, a shadow, a ghost,

What it means to be a man—I’ll find it on my own.

I won’t play along, I won’t wear the mask,

I won’t be a prisoner to a past that won’t last.

If feeling makes me weak, then let me break,

Better shattered than a shell forced to be fake.

They told me a man never cries, never pleads,

But I’ve seen their faces when they drop to their knees.

They hide their pain in bottles and fists,

Pretend they’re fine while they barely exist.

I won’t be their echo, I won’t be their clone,

I’d rather be real than be carved into stone.

If being human makes me less of a man,

Then tell me who came up with this twisted plan?

If silence is power, then let them hear me now!

If strength is survival, I won’t back down.

I’ve been a statue, a shadow, a ghost,

But I know what it means to be a man—I won’t be owned!

They told me to toughen up, stand tall, don’t break—

But I’d rather feel than just suffocate.