We Cry Differently, But We Hurt the Same

We cry differently,

some in silence,

some out loud,

some behind closed doors,

some in crowded rooms

while pretending to smile.

He was taught to be strong,

to swallow his pain,

to turn tears into anger,

and call it courage.

So he breaks quietly,

where no one can see.

She was taught to feel deeply,

to explain her pain,

to cry and still carry everything,

because stopping was never an option.

So she breaks openly,

yet keeps moving forward.

Different ways,

different masks,

different expectations—

but the weight feels the same

when it sits on the heart.

Pain doesn’t ask your gender.

Loss doesn’t care who you are.

Loneliness visits everyone

at least once,

and stays longer than expected.

Some wounds are hidden in jokes.

Some are buried in long nights.

Some live behind “I’m fine,”

spoken one too many times.

We cry differently,

but the ache feels equal.

The fear sounds the same in the dark.

The hope rises the same in the morning.

So be gentle.

You never know

what someone is carrying

in their quiet moments.

Because in this world of strength and silence,

of tears and toughness,

we are all just humans—

trying to survive,

trying to heal,

trying to be understood.