1.
He said,
“Bathi indoda ay’khale,
But my tears flow like rivers,
My heart heavy with the weight of silence—
What’s a man to do when the world demands strength,
Yet I carry scars no one can see?”

She answered,
“Man don’t cry, they say,
But who told you,
Your heart must be a fortress of steel?
The world only knows the mask you wear,
But you’ve never learned to remove it,
To breathe beneath the weight of your own soul.”

2.
He whispered,
“Bathi indoda ay’khale,
But my soul is breaking,
How do I speak when my voice is a shadow?
I have learned to silence the storm within,
To bury my hurt beneath a smile.”

She sighed,
“Man don’t cry, they say,
But haven’t you heard?
Even mountains crack under pressure.
Isn’t it time to show the world,
That strength doesn’t come from hiding,
But from standing tall in the face of your own pain?”

3.
He laughed bitterly,
“Bathi indoda ay’khale,
But no one taught me to lean on someone else,
I’ve been taught to carry burdens alone,
To wear my pain like armor,
But I’m breaking beneath the weight.”

She held his gaze,
“Man don’t cry, they say,
But maybe it’s time to tear down the walls,
To show the world what it means to feel,
To let the tears fall like rain,
And let the earth heal the cracks in your heart.”

4.
He breathed deeply,
“Bathi indoda ay’khale,
But here I stand,
A man who’s learned that strength is not in silence,
But in embracing the truth of who we are—
Broken, whole, vulnerable, and brave.”

She smiled softly,
“Man don’t cry, they say,
But maybe that’s why we keep falling,
Trying to be perfect,
When all we need to be is human.”

5.
Together they said,
“Bathi indoda ay’khale,
But maybe, just maybe,
Man was never meant to cry alone,
Perhaps the secret is learning to share the pain,
And in the end, that’s what makes us whole.”