Good Cry

My tears are my best friend my flesh is my enemy urges out of alignment with my innocence yet meaningful for growth the strength and pain of restraint to gather it all in silence to suffer when no one knows is it in vain? I wrote a poem twenty-eight days ago, creeping upon forty my life hasn't been straight to be focused one day by night to blow it all away much thanks to my sleeping angels for carrying my letter this far floating feathers with their swiftness summoning them I plead a belief in peace, forgiveness but am I even worth myself? If it is myself I want to escape out of hate why does it hurt to hurt myself? I want to love myself I'm hungry and these drugs don't help I fell asleep on the floor with my poor kitten whose head is aching, swollen tumor from behind his eye I hate when animals hurt so bad they too weak to even cry My tear drops are my best friend I'm not ashamed my cheeks ain't dry