Boys Don't Cry by Andy Eycott
 
 
the red-hot slash 
as I grip my thigh 
fall to the ground 
 
knowing  
that I am hamstrung 
 
The pain throbs  
pulsates, quivers 
as the hammer strikes, 
the nail firmly embedded. 
 
my hands cannot hold it 
cannot control or soothe it 
it is a raw anguish. 
 
You hear me, see me, help. 
 
My heart is a muscle too 
yet when I say it is torn  
you say nothing 
do nothing 
 
you trivialise my torment 
say I’m too young  
to have feelings that strong
say my love isn’t real 
 
I say I am hamstrung, 
heart strung. 
You say there’s no such thing. 
 
It was just another ‘thing’  
that I had to unlearn, 
that boys don’t cry.