The Need to Cry
It’s tough because I want to cry.
I can’t and I won’t, but I want to.
Badly.
I think it’s a physiological reaction to who I had become.
It is a shame.
This shortens my life.
I feel it.
It’s waiting and it won’t be pretty.
An embrace or an accolade.
I’m ready for tears.
I just can’t cry on my own and I most likely won’t get it out.
I’m trapped.
I’m ready to make my next mistake,
because my personal vantage point is skewed.
I’m not thinking right, nor will I ever again.
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