Pigs Don't Cry

It burns.

My eyes are burning.

It hurts,

When you want to cry.

It bleeds.

My body is heavy and warm.

 

Crying is nice.

It's safe and

Warm.

You feel it flow and

Trickle down.

 

My stomach aches

It breaks and

Turns and twists 

And churns.

 

But when you cry it

Makes no sound.

Doesn't whine or squeal

Like a pig

Aching for food and love

And hope.

 

We trickle and

Flow.

Like a river it

Goes.

Down my face

Hands

Sheets

 

We shake

And quake

 

My hands can't

Stay still.

My legs won't

Be calm.

 

It always is

Monthly,

Weekly,

Daily,

Enough.

 

It's never enough.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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