Many Cycles Stay the Same

As the man I am,

I’m expected to be strong.

I will do what I can,

to see that my family is okay.

I am there as a brother,

for my baby sisters.

Mom is out.
Dad is gone.

My stomach hurts.

And as I see the watery acid fall onto the floor

I lose all hope.

And for a few moments,

as I feel the incisions of the steel,

my sides can cry.

The red tears that leak out of my body,

each tell a story.

Each one in its own,

is beautiful.

And when I see their big blue eyes,

look up at me in joy,

and tell me about the crafts they made at school,

I feel hope again.
The cycle continues.