You Watch Grown Men Cry

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You watch grown men cry,
To revert to the child,
The one who sat quietly in the corner,
Yearning for the love of the mother.

Their tears mirror your pain,
A reflection clear and true,
Wrapped in clover, hopes abandoned, no chance of rescue,
Echoes of the fractured you.

Silence, your fragile shield,
Words tangled in your throat,
Hope slipped slowly down the slopes,
Too steep for you to take note.

You pour a bitter brew of grief,
On hearts that seek your care,
Lovers are treated like the mother,
Whose love was never there.

Now they feel your thunder,
Their hopes shattered asunder,
Declaring endings cold and stark,
Missing passovers in the dark.

Inflicting pain with muted rage,
Exiting the stage without a trace,
Leaving hearts in tangled chains,
Frozen in a lonely place.

No one left to turn to,
Silence wraps around you,
Indifference grows within your chest,
A heartless penance, devoid of deference.

No recompense can mend the breach,
Your heart is out of reach,
A saviour lost, promises dim,
Your words lost in the quiet din.

To stay sane, you hide the ache,
A heartless game, your heart forsaken,
Rooted deep within your mind,
echoes of the past entwine.

You unleash storms kept inside,
A hurricane of hurt and lost pride,
Pity those who cross your path,
For compassion’s lost in the aftermath.

Now silence reigns; it is the longest string,
Stone-cold echoes, hearts aching,
Childhood shadows cast long and wide…