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
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