Sometimes I Cry

Brad Bowswell

        From the pit of a bottomless soul where all manner of pain lies, are tortured wails drenched in salty tears. Beneath the calm surface this malignant fester bubbles with an impatient volcanic pressure ready to explode.
       A tragic burden will be laid upon steady, yet ever weary broad shoulders. The weight of a compromised convoluted sentient becomes unrelenting pressure. 
        The repetitious splintering grows into major cracks spewing disjointed vitriol on all, as universal fragility reigns.  An apathetic swell named divided is the chosen holy grail to tame the nightmares of day. 
        A world revealed stripped laid bare millions are the masses who unfairly suffer, and die.  We labeled survivors struggle through a seamless cycle in perpetual roles in seeming futility to alter our created realities hold.
       Meanwhile tragedy flows steady pelting like rain, soaking our hearts, souls, and psyches in pain.  I feel for us all men ,women ,and children ,especially those helpless, the old and the lame. 
        My anger wrestles my hurt which ,who, or what can I blame?  Then it occurs that the truth is really they are all one in the same.  Will this particular reality based in divisive fear forever dominate? We must ask ourselves why.
     So for those who needlessly suffer and die until we create needed answers ... sometimes I cry.       

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