A CRYING MAN

His name was…… I can’t recall
He was never as bitter as gall
For I knew him to be chatty
Talkative
Naughty
Attentive
Humourous
And
That was the part of him
He wanted the world to see

There was the other part
The part that tore him apart
Into adhesive shreds
When he was from company apart
He would sit against the wall
Behind closed doors
In the square territory
Of his rented room
He would think
And think
And think
And then cry,
The streaming brine cascading down brown cheeks
From two springs hidden behind reddened eyeballs
He would cry
And cry
And cry
And then he would sleep
And sleep
And sleep away his sorrows
Praying in his slumber
To find company when he awoke,
To show the world that other part
That only cheerfulness bespoke

He cried for his world
That revolved in defiance to the world
That when he moved forward
He found himself a step backward
He cried for the unfairness
For the injustice
He cried for his dreams that arose and fell in the horizon with the setting sun
He cried for only himself
That he was still standing
Strapped to that same spot
He had stood three years ago

He wasn’t suicidal
He loved to live
He did believe
He would achieve
His dreams
But then he cried
Like the saturated sky would
That the rainbow might appear
To give hope
For many days to come
With the smiling sun
On its journey
Across a cloudless sky.

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