I’d love to cry.

I’d love to cry one day, and drown in my tears. Cry till blood has to replace the salty lacrimation, and escape the yesteryears. Newborns get to have all the fun, whilst men with chest hair, anchor liquid to their tear ducts, but do discuss, how one can live in this world and not cry. I want to cry for every cut I’ve received, every idiot I’ve loved, fucked, and luved. I want to cry for you and me, I want to cry because big girls aren’t supposed to cry, but I have no pussy, and I’m no pussy, so I’m alright; yeah, I’m alright man, I’m not so bad. I want to cry for all the shit I forgot to do, all the people I tried to please, all the fucking things I was supposed to be, but my fucking self. I want to cry for the president, I want to be president. I want to cry in a weightless  atmosphere, not because I’m scared as shit, but because, I want to cry. I wanted to cry on September 11th, because the janitor lost his job, how is he going to feed his kids? I want to go to the movies and cry at the cliché dumbass that gets killed, because he was trying to save some girl, that ends up marrying his best friend. I want to cry for your mother, because she was crying, while delivering you, thinking about abortion; too late. I want to cry for those kids in Africa, not donating money to me. I’m hungry. I want to cry for Al Sharpton, because he’s Al Sharpton. I’d love to cry for Chris Brown, because he didn’t pick up boxing as a young child. I want to cry for all the spouses, who died during their long marriages, because they got married. I want to cry for Facebook, because it understands me, and doesn’t talk back. I want to cry for Tiger Woods, because it’s hard for a pimp. I want to cry for wooden chairs; for absolutely no reason. I want to cry for light bulbs because, it took many French people to screw them in. I want to cry for Obama, because he didn’t get me a job, or feed the kids I don’t have. I want to cry for the troops in Iraq getting killed by the terrorist, known as the United States Army. I want to cry for Michael Jackson finally dying from the world, and the world, and the world.

All I’m saying is, I’d love to cry…..

but I’m not a bitch.

-S.M. Rich


About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Penny for my thoughts, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to I’d love to cry.

  1. shewriting says:

    let it out! Cry like you write about wanting to cry.

  2. Jingle says:

    cry if you wish…

  3. Jingle says:


    awards for you.
    Welcome linking in your poetry treats to poetry potluck, we are open until Wednesday Morning 8pm…Happy Monday!

  4. systematicweasel says:

    Sometimes the world would love to cry, but it just can’t get there. An intense work that packs a lot of punch, man! Awesome work! =)

    P.S. I think this post on Poets United would interest you, if you’ve not seen it just yet. Congrats man! =D

  5. This is really powerful writing. Packs a punch for sure. Well done. Keep writing – and feel free to cry – dont know how a human person can survive in this world if he doesnt:) And congrats on being blog of the week, am enjoying looking more closely at your work.

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