Weep
Sorrow is the word of the walk around
The more you tread, it heaps abound.
You curve your lips to mend the world
And everyone around is a story unfurled.
You listen, rapt with attention
For you have to know the flow to dam the river.
You find a way to reach subjugation
Weild the soothing hand to their tremor.
Every whisper, every sob, every desperate shout;
You condone every cry.
Futile it may seem, you're full of doubt,
But never do you cease to try.
And then comes the point festered.
You want to be the sheep
Tired of tending akin a shepherd
Just sit down alone and weep.
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