Christina Bledsoe's Poem

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I Cry

It�s pouring outside and I take comfort
odd since I am such a big fan of the sun and its shine
but today is a different day; today is the day of doom
the day the closely knit wood chunks cracked apart
the dam of built up tears has broken and flows freely
is it god that sent the rain this day?
to give me the slightest comfort that could be offered
at a time of such pain that it cannot even be described
all the memories, all the pain has me silenced
leaving only hot tears of frustration, pain that I cannot speak of
but let it be known my silence is not due to having nothing to say
but rather because it is so difficult to face the sadness of the truth
I am forced to call my life. If I could speak I�d deafen the world with my rage
at the unfairness of it all, not just for me but for all like me
Lightning strikes some far off place and the dark gray clouds
cry with all their might, are they crying for me or with me?
I toss my big black furry hood over my head
as I walk down the boulevard why fight it I think
and I cry with the rain, couldn�t stop the tears if I tried
I think of you and I cry because you didn�t love me
I simply wasn�t a concern to you at all, to either one of you
I was supposed to be your most precious gift instead without a choice
you gave me the gift of obtaining the ability to drag myself out from the bottom
of a gutter filled with filth; you willingly threw me in
I cry because the court gave me to a drug addict
with a complete disregard for my eventual outcome
I was one of many, no one important, just another name
with so many in line perhaps it is hard to take time to care
or perhaps that�s just me making excuses to try and make myself feel better
either way when no one cares what does it really matter?
there we have it again with the sadness of the truth
I cry that she loved my money and the drugs it bought
but she didn�t love me, never even tried to pretend
My sole purpose of being was just to be a name assigned to a monthly check
I cry because I wonder what I did that was so bad that I deserved to be treated
worse than a diseased animal, in your eyes, what did I do?
That I didn�t deserve to be loved, that I didn�t deserved to be fed, that I didn�t deserve
to be acknowledged in the smallest respect, when I was sick instead
of being kind you kicked me down and worked me like a horse on purpose
instead of lifting my spirits you told me I was stupid and useless
instead of making me feel wanted and needed you made me feel non-existent
though I strived to be perfect in hopes you would notice me; you made me feel
exanimate in a way that you made me question whether I was even real
I cry for this, I cry that this is real, why couldn�t this have just been
a terrible nightmare and I cry for the fact that it is a terrible nightmare
one that I am never going to wake up from; I was a mistake formed by two alcoholics
thrown out into the harshest of worlds, not a soul cared and I cry
because as long as I live I have to live with the sadness of the truth