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,
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.
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