July 14, 2011
By Prachi Goyal BRONZE, W. Bloomfield, Michigan
Prachi Goyal BRONZE, W. Bloomfield, Michigan
3 articles 0 photos 3 comments

“Darling count to ten.”

Her pink lipstick covered lips moved

My preschool ears consumed each word

Gulp by gulp.

I stare at two glaring faces

That won’t stop looking.

They looked angry

Because I didn’t listen.

“Darling start counting, you will stop crying.

One, two, three…”

Her voice dragged along

Until her teeth clenched

And ended with a ten.

In a want for those glaring eyes

To slant in a smile

And that clenched teethed preschool teacher

To let out a breath of relief.

I sucked in my tears with difficulty

And started to count

“One, Two, Three, Four…”

as the simplicity of life

continued to complex


became a toy

I had outgrown.

I covered my hurt feelings and sensitivity

With a translucent cover

Of random pure joy.

A smile covered my face.

One that never went away

A permanent one.

The smile wasn’t fake though.

Every single moment of happiness

Was a slice of an everlasting cake.

The frosting so sweet

The inside so fulfilling.

But, when those happy feelings

Turn inside out.

And that normally blue sky

Churns into the pain of my heart.

I can’t control myself.

And the same stirring emotion I got at preschool

Returned in same violent fury.

It rages in my stomach

And grows in my heart

That beats so fast,

I can’t even feel it.

But when that feeling chokes up in my throat

I can’t control myself.

My mind blocks off any practicality.

I have no choice,

But to let

Those salty droplets

Drip on to my cheeks.

My face reddens,

My brows squeeze together upwards

As if in deep worry.

My cheeks splotch with dark marks.

And my eyes

Seem like a pond

But instead of ducks or fishes

Swimming happily

There is a hurricane of confusion

And this look of

Why me?

“Don’t cry.”

“It makes you look weak.”

Parents’ advice might be the best thing

One can get.

I trashed their advice.

They yelled

When I cried about others being superior.

They yelled

When I cried about adults stomping over me.




They tell me how depressing it is

To see me cry.

They tell me how senseless and stupid I am.

They want me to see a doctor

Or go on drugs.

Maybe they are right.

But at that time,

My empty soul

Needs one to reach it

And embrace it.

Someone to change my heavy breathes into giggles.

Scolding never helps.

Just makes my tears

Drip and drop

Even faster.


We all have to let it out.

Uncover those translucent sheets

And just cry

And cry.

With no control

On those blissful tear,

Those are like pieces of stress

Dripping away from you.

With no control

Over that ugly face when you cry.

Because sometimes

Crying can be the best therapy.

The author's comments:
People always tell others to stop crying. However, crying does not always have to be bad.

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