We all have things that we won't let ourselves do. Some won't let themselves cry, love, hope, fear, hate, or have even faith. 

This poem is partly about me, as all poems in essence are a part of the poet. Another part of the poem is to encourage others to reach out to people who are in pain, before it's too late.

Life's short, why not make it sweet?
I can guarantee you that somebody needs you.


He Won't Cry

You see the pain that lies in his eyes,

You see he's sad and not satisfied.
But, alas, his eyes are dry,
He won't cry.
No, he won't cry.


You see the anger that burns from his gaze,

You feel the wrath that sparked while he spake,
The madness that sets his eyes ablaze,
He won't cry.
No, he won't cry.


You see the fear that blinds his eyes,

The smile he wears — just a disguise,
He won't cry.
No, he won't cry.


You see the hope that's long dead,

he trusts no one. His heart has been bled,
He won't cry.
No, he won't cry.


You see the love that lies within,

But he never again feels a thing.
You feel the passion when he sings.
He won't cry.
No, he won't cry.


You see death's hand that has glazed his eyes,

His spirit fried
His soul of life denied.
No one saw him die inside,
They won't cry.
No, they won't cry