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.