What does a woman need? Does she need a warm heart and a beautiful, kind soul? Does she need that man with the ocean of love to give? Or does she need that man with the character? With the powerful mouth and a brave heart? Does she need a man filled with compassion? Or a man, or should I say knight, with shining...Abs? Does she need an unrelenting man, who will take care of her, as she is tired of taking care of herself and needs a warm strong shoulder to cry on? Or dose she need that man, who confesses his weakness and asks her to take care of his broken heart, to help him back on his feet again?
Why does man has to always be the strong one? Don't you know my love that a man's heart is sometimes filled with shreds of broken hopes, dreams and loves? Don't you know my love that a man can be sad? That a broken man can feel that darkness penetrating his wounded soul, crawling all the way up to his eyes, driving tears out of his kind eyes? Don't you know my love?
Don't you know that a man cries? That a man weeps when no one sees? Sits in the corner of his ever-dark soul and cries his heart out? He doesn't show you because a man is supposed to be tough. But I say that be damned. I don't care for what people think or say. I cry and weep. I sit in the corner of my room. hug my legs and wish for a loved on'es hug. Wish for her kiss and touch. Damned be a man that does not cry.
Why can't men cry? Why should we be tough? It hurts to be tough. It hurts not to cry, not to let that wave of sadness hit your petite heart, sending away falls of tears that drown your yellow love-yearning cheeks. I want to cry. I want to weep. I want to feel weak. I want to feel hopeless. I want to feel soul-crushed. I can't hide it anymore.
Damn that sadness that sends you on a journey to the land of suicide. To the land, where the sound of a bullet is as sweet as the gun that shoots it. That sweet quick piece of metal that penetrates your brain and relieves of all the pain. Of all the suffering that overwhelms you. No more, Dear God. No more pain please. Take me to you, maybe my loved H. can finally show me she loves me. Maybe if i die i'll finally tell she loves me. Maybe she'll stand by my grave and grab my hand before that sand pours over me and my bone turn to ashes. Just maybe...