Weeping May Make You Weak

The bunds are erected, No flooding can be seen, Not the artesian spring, Burst out and flow in aversion, The barricade at the lower lid, Slowly built with powerful will, Though the wells are not still, Secrete the hot salt water as the oil mill, Once in a while, not at every pinch and poke, The wounds will heal; the time has to roll, The sorrows of yesteryears have no teeth, To bite, munch and chew the old thoughts, Sometimes we smile for what we had done, In innocence, many of our prayers are not answered, The beggars in us go to the altar to pester and please, Once the barrier is kept between the words, No conversation can be audible to the hearing ears, Particularly the bunds under the eye lids, Are carefully managed and maintained, The hearts will grow apart to keep the silence, As the dear friend, no one can rip us into pieces, To feed the sadist cannibals in the mind, It is better not to cry, weep and wet the pillow at night, When thousands of positive rainbows escape to feast, Show them your happy face and let them be sad, Let them derive the pleasure out of their own depression, Erect that wall strong and never shed the tear to make you weak. there are thousands of opportunities near your door step.