A rambling poem I wrote one day. Sometimes my thoughts just go ’round and ’round. Can anyone relate?
Sometimes I feel like crying,
But I know it wouldn’t do any good.
So I don’t.
But maybe I should.
Oh, never mind.
I really haven’t the time.
I’ll just push it aside.
Another day I’ll feel like it,
And maybe I’ll have the time—
For now I’ll bottle it up inside.
Crying won’t change the situation,
Though it might clear my vision
And change the way I see things.
It might clear my head for a laugh,
But it will make my eyes red
And make my breath come hard.
And it will leave a weak, weary feeling inside.
So I guess I just won’t.
But I probably should.
Perhaps, one day I’ll just melt down,
Succumb to anxiety or depression.
You can only hold so much for so long.
All the little things add up.
Imperceptible grains of sand
Cumulatively become weighty.
So next time I feel like crying,
Maybe I will,
Even if it seems ridiculous
To cry over a tiny irritation.
I’ll just let the tears carry the pain away,
And forget it.
But it’s not really convenient now.
So I won’t,
Though I know I should.
Unfortunately, you cannot cry true tears,
The kind that cleanse, on demand.
I’ll just wait till next time.
Then, maybe, I’ll cry.