She left you one morning,
She had no choice.
In a country of millions
She had just one voice.

The law made it clear
One child would do.
To obey it would mean
No hope for you.

As she laid you down
Her eyes became blurried.
On saying goodbye
Said don't you worry.



Another will come
To take my place.
A mother will come
From a different race.

She'll hold you and love you
As if you're her own.
She'll take you away
To a brand new home.

She then ran away
Her heart broke in two.
Don't ever forget
Of my love for you.

Sometime i cry, cry because im in this long confusing process of trying to figure out who i am and what i wanna do with my life.

I cry because im constantly putting myself down

I cry because my mom does it ten times more than me

I cry because i feel like im not good enough for anyone

i cry because i just wantt to be the reason for my moms smile even though shes the reason for my tears.

I cry because ive beeen obsessed with popularity, and being accepted because i some how feel it will substitute for the love i dont get from my mom

I cry because i want to come home once in my life and be welcomed with a hug and kiss

I cry because i swear no one understands

I cry because i try to be stong, but i feel so weak, ugly, worthless bcuz thts what im told on a daily basis by the one who gave me life.

I cry because i feel so broken and empty inside.

I cry because i try to comfort myself; i say 'things could be worse' but i only cry more because the thought of someone going through something worse than what i am breaks my heart. i just wish i could take away everyone's pain. tell everyone their beautiful in their own way and to never let anyone tell them different. tell them what I need to hear,

I cry, I cry for those people...

We have had a terrible weekend,
Now everyone is crying,
Over a very good friend,
Who has just got done dying.

I didn't know her very well,
But it makes me very sad,
to know that someone so young,
Had died in the last few days.

She had lots to live for,
And friendships that would last forever,
Will her friends forget her,
I think they will forget her never?

In silence the heart raves.It utters words
Meaningless, that never had
A meaning.I was ten, skinny, red-headed,

Freckled.In a ******* Buick,
Driven by a big grown boy, with a necktie, she sat
In front of the drugstore, sipping something

Through a straw. There is nothing like
Beauty. It stops your heart.It
Thickens your blood.It stops your breath.It

Makes you feel *****.You need a hot bath.
I leaned against a telephone pole, and watched.
I thought I would die if she saw me.

How could I exist in the same world with that brightness?
Two years later she smiled at me.She
Named my name. I thought I would wake up dead.

Her grown brothers walked with the bent-knee
Swagger of horsemen.They were slick-faced.
Told jokes in the barbershop. Did no work.

Their father was what is called a drunkard.
Whatever he was he stayed on the third floor
Of the big white farmhouse under the maples for twenty-five years.

He never came down.They brought everything up to him.
I did not know what a mortgage was.
His wife was a good, Christian woman, and prayed.

When the daughter got married, the old man came down wearing
An old tail coat, the pleated shirt yellowing.
The sons propped him.I saw the wedding.There were

Engraved invitations, it was so fashionable.I thought
I would cry.I lay in bed that night
And wondered if she would cry when something was done to her.

The mortgage was foreclosed. That last word was whispered.
She never came back.The family
Sort of drifted off.Nobody wears shiny boots like that now.

But I know she is beautiful forever, and lives
In a beautiful house, far away.
She called my name once.I didn't even know she knew it.

Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awakening, till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow.
Yes! tho’ that long dream were of hopeless sorrow,
’Twere better than the cold reality
Of waking life, to him whose heart must be,
And hath been still, upon the lovely earth,
A chaos of deep passion, from his birth.
But should it be—that dream eternally
Continuing—as dreams have been to me
In my young boyhood—should it thus be given,
’Twere folly still to hope for higher Heaven.
For I have revell’d when the sun was bright
I’ the summer sky, in dreams of living light,
And loveliness,—have left my very heart
In climes of mine imagining, apart
From mine own home, with beings that have been
Of mine own thought—what more could I have seen?
’Twas once—and only once—and the wild hour
From my remembrance shall not pass—some power
Or spell had bound me—’twas the chilly wind
Came o’er me in the night, and left behind
Its image on my spirit—or the moon
Shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon
Too coldly—or the stars—howe’er it was
That dream was as that night-wind—let it pass.

I have been happy, tho’ [but] in a dream.
I have been happy—and I love the theme:
Dreams! in their vivid colouring of life
As in that fleeting, shadowy, misty strife
Of semblance with reality which brings
To the delirious eye, more lovely things
Of Paradise and Love—and all our own!
Than young Hope in his sunniest hour hath known.