Crying is not just crying.
It is not just crying,
it is not just a cry.
It is weeping,
when your heart breaks
breaking down,
you pour and cry your heart out.
It is when your heart feels too big to fit in your body,
inside your heart is dying,
bleeding.
So do not tell it is just a cry,
because it is more than that.
I kept saying to myself,
"Stop."
"I do not want this anymore."
This is the worst feeling,
when you start to hate yourself again.
This is when you are breaking,
when a voice echoed in your mind
and said,
"You are worthless."
You kept on saying to yourself,
"Stop"
"I do not want this anymore."
It is when you believe you are your own enemy,
and the monster was inside of you.
You hugged your pillow tight,
cover your ears using your hands
because there were voices,
whispering,
"You are not worth it."
Your head drifted,
full of unwanted thoughts—
full of images of the snakes in a forest
and you were the only one there.
You just want to sleep—
but you cannot,
because the hot tears flow like a storm
and your heart is the thunderstorm.
You remembered telling so many people you do not have any fears.
That person asked,
"Even a snake?"
You said,
"Yes."
Because the only fear of yours that time was losing a loved one,
and you did not know who you are.
But this night came,
it was full of tireless scars
and you realized:
You have many fears—
because we do all have many fears.
It is when you realize you fear having no one to know outside,
you fear the future,
"What can I do?"
You fear that when you go outside and meet new people,
you might burst out and cry like a baby,
and they would all look at you disgustedly—
you fear everything.
So do not tell me it is just a cry
because it was never a just—
it is more than that.
It is funny,
how I smile every day
but I cry every night.
I told myself,
"It can be true,
really."
I cannot sleep,
so I started to cry
because I could not sleep,
and all I want is to sleep—
it hurts,
I could not sleep without crying.
I just want to sleep,
to rest,
to escape—
to vanish for a while.
But every time I sleep,
I encounter the monsters—
a vivid night mare.
There was a ghost,
it was staring at me.
There was a little boy who liked me as his sister
but he turned out to be a monster.
He ran over to me,
it felt very heavy,
strangled me by the neck
but it stopped,
someone came to save me—
he had shining armor and a sword,
a light in the dark.
I had a savior,
a hero—
my prince charming,
in that bad dream.
How I hope in reality too . . .
Because in reality I am a damsel in distress too,
who needed to be saved—
by my own self.
When I had a nightmare one night,
I was in a black cage.
It was too dark there,
I could only hear myself crying.
He did not come—
my prince charming did not come to save me,
because he was the one who put me there,
in that cage that surrounded infinite darkness.
I sobbed hard,
cried hard,
shouted hard
but no one heard—
it was tragic,
how you want to be heard
but no one listens—
it was cruel,
how I ended up suffering,
with blood all over my body—
it was gruesome.
I shouted to someone,
"You are so dense!"
I said it many times,
because my heart was broken
and I know yours too,
it made me feel guilty.
I knew how that felt
but I made someone feel like that,
I hated myself,
blaming no one but me,
and cry.
So do not tell me it is just a cry,
it is more than that,
it is fearing,
bleeding,
blaming yourself—
it is dying.
I do not want to cry anymore please . . .
it hurts . . .
so much,
because you do not just cry for no reason—
maybe you do not know the reason,
but when you cry,
your poor unhappy heart breaks.
