Ek chhoti si poem.

I grew up hearing “Masculinity,”

A word too heavy, too sharp for me.

Smaller than boys, thinner in frame,

Measured in muscle, blamed for shame.

Jokes whispered, laughter behind my back,

A hand raised for truth met silence, a cruel attack.

In classrooms, at home, eyes weighed me down,

Taught to hide tears under a forced frown.

The boy inside me shrank and curled,

Silent, unseen, in a quiet world.

“Be strong,” they said, “carry the load,”

But strength can be gentle, not just bold.

Now I stand with a pen in hand,

Writing what I hope someone will understand.

Courage can whisper, courage can bend,

Even fragile hearts can defend.

I am small, I am quiet, yet I stay,

Facing my fears, my pain, each day.

I hope for eyes that truly see,

For voices that speak for boys like me.

Though the world may not yet understand,

I write. I speak. I take my stand.

For every hidden voice, every story unheard

I am the echo. I am the word.