The Falling

I try to hold back
when I feel the lump
form in my throat, and
when my lip starts
to quiver.

I try to hold back
because the tears
represent defeat.
I spend to much
time trying to
make myself believe
that I am okay;
the tears remind
me that I could
not be further from
okay.

When they come
I just want to be
held.
To be wrapped up
and warm,
and for someone
to tell me that
the tears are
okay,
even though
I am
anything but.

I do not need
to be told that
everything will be
better one day.

I need to
wallow and be
told that even
though my mind is
full of thorny flowers,
that it is better to
prune them
than to let
them grow.

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