Sometimes I Cry

Crying Black ManMy sadness beats steadily against the noise

of silent eyes who look through my heart.


I stand still in the middle of a circle of invisibility

staring at empty walls full of shadows;



shadows hidden behind a perspiration of smiles

pretending to be my friends but all the while they laugh at me

because sometimes I cry when tears

are not there.


Sometimes I cry when I am amused at a mad world

where beggars are not the needy

and the needy are not the ones helpless

and the helpless are not the hungry

starving to be recognized through their true identities.


Sometimes I cry when I am pretending

to believe in the value of a person’s kindness,

but are these masks just worn by agendas

with those little beady eyes


sneaking up behind me attacking me

with a venomous little surprise.


My happiness rattles against the railing of the silence

of noisy eardrums listening to my mind.



I walk fast on paused streets of civilization

to find new destinations of fear;


a fear that is a crumpled piece of paper

in my left side pocket that I wrote down

so I wouldn’t forget; but I have it memorized



because sometimes I cry just to trace the tears

of a memory.


I find myself crying

just to prove to myself I am alive;

just to prove to myself that I am trying,


and sometimes I cry

just to allow my soul to sweat.


© 2010

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