Cry, boy, cry – let your tears flow,
let your rivers run dry.
Your entitlement your cancer:
‘Adult’ who can’t take “No” for an answer.
You brag and strut at how you read Joyce,
but can’t read the room?
You think your wet mewling at my door,
will tempt or guilt me me back?
Little boy who won’t accept boundaries,
who treats rejection like challenge,
and barriers like exploratory sorties.
The sobs of a grown ass man who’d go,
drowning himself in tantrums,
in his own piss and tears.
I don’t know what you think,
the world owes you,
but I don’t share in that debt.
You’re lonely? So?
Be better. Grow up.
You are a problem,
but not mine.
You’re confused? Get therapy.
You wanna cry? Go ahead and weep.
You know where the door is –
you weird fucking creep.
Charl Landsberg is a South African poet who’s work often focusses on issues of social justice, surviving abuse, and speaking up against abusers.