The house is quiet. I have a few hours for myself...and what do I do? I sit in front of the computer, I s

tare blankly at the screen and I begin to cry.

I cry.

I cry for the injustice in this world, for the wars, the crimes, the hate, the indifference when it matters, 

I cry for the children, the old, the sick, the stupid, the ignorant.

I cry for the street cats that I feed every evening, waiting for me under cars in the parking lot.

I cry for the trees that are cut down, for money, for power, for nothing.

I cry for the soldiers that fell in wars and for the mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters.

I cry for the unwanted, the hated, the different, the isolated, the sacrificed and the sacrifice.

I cry for my husband who battles an unforgiving illness and when I see the pain and despair in his eyes

 I cry harder.

I cry for my daughter, she has to live in this world long after I'm gone

I cry for friends, lost.

I cry for family lost even more

I cry for my son, vanished in some world or other.

I cry for my youth, forever gone

I cry for my future, there is not much left of it

And I cry until I have no more tears left.