Crying

By Bella Melardi

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