When I Cry



My cries are different

from everyone else.

Sometimes aloud,

releasing built-up anger.

Sometimes inside,

building the anger.


I cry very often

when I’m lonely or sad.

But no matter the reason,

what it might possibly be,

they’re never the same

as others around me.


Nobody’s cries are exactly the same,

they were meant to be different.

But everyone’s cries

in one way or another,

Has at least one small trait

In common with others.


But not one of mine.

Every last one is different.

In every way I see a tear drop,

and every sound I hear them make;

my cries are different from everyone


Down to their very last trait.


I’ve always felt different,

not like all my friends,

Just totally out-of-place.

But when I cry, I get a feeling

I may have some hope;

I end up no longer believing.


Will the day ever come

when I’ll finally fit in?

When I’ll stop feeling unwanted

by friends and by kin?

When I’ll stop hiding my feelings

Tightly locked up with-in?


When I cry aloud

I won’t stand out?

When I cry inside

It’ll be a quiet song?

When I cry alone

it’ll be ‘cause I belong?


Copyright ©Kyla Davis (Scheuer) 1985


One response to “When I Cry

  1. Pingback: I Moved to Hell? « Kylamscheuer

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