Ignore the hype.
We sit and pout over the failures of our brothers and sisters,
scold them by slapping their thin wrists with oven-heated slabs of iron,
give them our most intense form of the “stink-eye,”
and ready our hearts for the cries to come.
It is all expected.
We’ve trained ourselves to resist the urge to cheer and shout out,
to grow a smile, nurtured by the tears and sniffles of our loved ones,
and simply go through the motions.
“Man the fuck up,” we say with an exaggerated roll of our eyes.
“This world is too strong and you are too weak.”
And so each and every one of them believe in our words,
and learn to seek power in the only way that they were shown.
By making others feel the pain of their youth.