crying

The west worships complaints of those
Who have a voice to do so
And that is not everyone everywhere

I can cry
But when you live to survive
I can only ever imagine it

Blood becomes a language
You learn to speak
To survive

Panicking becomes death
And life becomes a question
I can only ever imagine it

Tears become a memory
There is no time to cry
Crying is a privilege

I am so privileged to be able to sob
Endlessly and endlessly
To hear the sound of my own voice

And not worry it will be put out like a flame
I can cry
I can cry

Written by Bella Melardi
Writer

Bella Melardi is an OCADU student and a poet and artist. She writes about social justice issues and mental health.