Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy,
or too tired,
or too mad to cry.
I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored,
disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me
in the ways others did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.
I cried for all the things I had given,
only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that
had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished,
only to give them away,
to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty,
and battered and plain old used.
I cried because there really does
come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry.