It’s that feeling…


Its that feeling,

the restricts your chest,

and broods deep inside

It’s that feeling,

that builds and builds,

and never recedes…

until you cry it out...

It’s that feeling,

that makes you tired,

and sad,

and depressed…

all at once,

and you know you shouldn’t be,

because you have people who love you,

and care about you,

and if there was a way to be with them you would,

but you can’t and it makes that feeling grow.

And the first drop is the most sacred,

It’s the one that you shed for them.

William A. Rivers

Dedicated to Hazel Turner

This poem’s personal muse

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