trigger warning // self harm, mentions of yelling 

when i was younger

a child; innocent, ignorant, small and vociferate

my father convinced me not to cry.

he'd say " crying is weak ", and " crying is for the weak "

being the innocent, ignorant, small and vociferate child i was

i listened.

any tear i shed was courtesy of belligerency

belligerency and utter stupidity.

as i aged to my older, more current years

an adolescent; no longer innocent, still ignorant, far more considerate and a little less vociferate

i took on the tears and wounds of others as mother takes on motherhood

as fire desires oxygen,

as predator requires prey,

as stomach requisites sustenance,

so, with the wounds i bore on my shoulders and back and arms and thighs

they quickly took their toll and i began to wore

and soon i would concur

a blade cuts deeper than word,

my favored color, crimson was assigned

and tears fall much easier from my thighs than they do my eyes.