“Stand up straight there boy! Don’t be coy,
Don’t cry, you need to act like a man!”
“You know he’s way too thin, he shouldn’t be that slim,
Somebody feed the boy some meat!”
The boy feels nothing but doubt so he yearns to shout,
But has no idea of what he should do.
‘Cause expression is weak, a tool of the meek,
he’s left with no release or consolation.
The doubt remains, and confusion reigns,
He grows unsure of his lot in life.
Contempt of self, feeling beyond all help,
The cracks now begin to appear.
With no means of expression, he resorts to repression,
the silent prisoner he has become.
His mind is his cage and with a swelling rage,
it’s ready now to explode.