the tears behind closed door

as a kid, i cried a lot.
so much that everyone starts calling me a crybaby.
normally kids cry not becuz of the matter of the heart.
but rather, physical pain, guilt, wrongdoings, discomfort.

i cried behind a closed door before.
that was when i was very young.
it was hurting... to hear your mother said you're not her child.
you're just some kid taken out from the garbage bin.

of cuz that's not true.
she told me that after she found me hiding behind the door weeping.

i can't always depends on others to give me comfort.
yet it doesn't sounds comforting to tell myself come what may.
it's a tormenting preparation to brace myself for the worst
and in the process still searching for the light of hope that flickers

i've grown weak over the years.
or have i grown stronger?
is facing your fear a proof of courage?
or just a simple case of stupidity.

no pain, no gain
no sacrifice, no love
the circle of karma, the fact of life
if i go beyond this, then what's the use of living?

life itself is a one-time only experience
smiles and laughter, tears and dejection
you only have one chance to taste the bittersweet
don't leave regret, if you can.

do all that you desire
accumulate all the heartbreaks
but not forgetting all the joy

i like a blue senerity that comes with a smile that exude a pinch of sadness.