My mother cries a lot.

I don’t blame her though,

It’s just how she was taught.

Just like the way my father yells instead of speaks,

I hope I don’t follow in his narrowing footsteps.

My mother cries.

She cries because she is lonely.

Because even though the sun is shining and the sky is blue,

There is still a deep black hole that tries to consume you.

She never quite learned how to escape that.

I hope I don’t follow her deafening footsteps.

My father yells,

And my mother cries,

And sometimes they trade spots and I lose what role I’m supposed to be playing.

I can longer console the maternal so I’ll just hide from the inconsolable.

I am my parents child.

I cry when I am mad,

And I yell when I am sad.

I think I’m following their deeply rooted footsteps.

But hey don’t blame me,

These were just the lessons I was taught.

I learned that hiding was coping,

And expressing was manipulation.

I fear I’m following their sacrilegious footsteps.

I hope one day,

I’ll learn something different by someone who would’ve read me bedtime stories instead of news lines.

Because if not,

One day when I yell when I am sad,

And cry when I am mad,

I won’t know the difference between hurting someone you love,

And learning how to ask for help.