southern men just dont cry.
he stood by his mother's grave,
not a flinch, not a sound...
except cars passing by.
not a good son,
too many wild nights,
& run-ins with the law...
but he could still remember...
her dumplings, & the books
she read to him at night...
the way she taught him to think for himself,
told him never to follow anyone...
her old Bible, & her tired smiling eyes...
southern men just dont cry...
but weeping's a state of mind!
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