A good long cry is cathartic in the deepest of griefs,
so they say.

So why is it when I cry, I only feel worse afterwards?

Perhaps this grief etches the center of my heart,
like a signature on a tree's bark
that fades with time but never disappears

or a wound that festers forever
still trying to push out its cause
years after it has been sustained

(Perhaps I am picking at it?)