so lonely are my nights
lonely are my few short days
lonely as I stand
lonely are them clouds

so lonely that the tears fall
lonely in my dark silence
lonely as the cold steel acts
lonely are my cuts and scars

so lonely in this life
lonely in a crevices of darkness
lonely are my cries of pain
lonely is this cold pit  

lonely oh so lonely
that I beg the homely kiss of death to strike

Do you see
the generation today,
my generation struggling
emotionally
having jarred into their heads
that it's not okay to cry
that it's not good to cry
that it's going to be alright
if you would just stop crying
if you would just wipe the tears off
that crying is for the weak (oh my son is not weak)
that crying wouldn't help
that crying is for the enemies
my generation
was served a lie on the platter
and we gulped it down
our throats without a thought
so that if we ever choke with tears
we'd gulp the lie over and over again
but mothers and fathers
look yourselves in the eye
and tell me if shedding a few tears
didn't turn down your grief
and tell me if shedding a few tears
made you any less a man
made you any less a woman
made you any less a human
Mothers and fathers
look your children in the eye
and tell them
crying is just another emotion
that has the ability
to sit down with your heart
in moments of grief
and be the friend
it needs the most.
tell them
crying is for the strong
crying is for those who feel
crying is for everyone
tell them
crying is okay.
crying is good.

serve me a slice of pie
with a knife and two forks
and a side of stolen looks

we'll split our piece
equally discreet
severed, yet even and clean

quietly savoring the saccharine saliva
as our tongues linger over
a bite of shared sin