It’s Crying Time
Eyes up, no tears. Dad’s stage-four cancer, I thought, shouldn’t cause everyone to break down.
Crrrrryyyyyyyy babyCry baby. Cry baby. Honey, welcome back home
Could you cry a little, lie just a little, pretend that you’re feeling a little more pain
baby go on and just cry me a river
Dad is sick, this is bad
Cry, baby. Honey, welcome back home
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I learned that kind of hard-won glamour; that we should have beauty, however much the world wants to keep it from us.