when I was standing with my ripped clothes
and bruised body
—she told me not to cry
when I was left alone at the street
in the middle of the night
—she told me not to cry
when someone steals and hide the things I like the most
—she told me not to cry
when I was on the verge of letting my tears stream like a river
—she told me not to cry
when I sit and reminisce the memories of my peaceful and happy days
—she told me not to cry
when I blow the candle and wish for one thing I've been silently praying for
—she told me not to cry
when we meet in my dreams and I chase for her hugs
—she told me not to cry
when I was sick and secretly pitying myself
—she told me not to cry
but how can I
in this gloomy room
dead memories
and shattered promises
how can I
in this house
of unending sadness
and hated voices
how can I not cry
if she's crying herself
how can I not cry
if I can see how she badly
want to be with me too
how can I not cry
when I have no one
but myself to hush this
sorrowful heart
then tell me how can I not cry
if I badly miss her
if I badly want to hear her voice
if I badly want to feel her hugs
if I badly want to see her smiles again
and feel her hands wiping my tears while she speak her favorite line
— ' I told you not to cry '
— ' You've grown so beautiful. My baby is a fine and strong girl.'
