I watch the faces,

wonder where are the tears,

I know when he passed,

she cried out loud for the cameras,

there's no question grief exists,

but how do we measure our own.


We live in a world of scrutiny,

a division of equality,

chaotic and absurd the hypocrisy,

when someone cries,

we turn off the channel to watch

more fiction, more golf, more anything

rather than deal with the reality of your loss,

I'd rather have a beer on the deck,

stay away from me,

get your own world to care about you!

That is what I see.


She doesn't have tears,

he doesn't fall apart,

in the public eye,

don't let me confuse the reality of

what it means to have a certain strike against


before you ever leave your door.

Do we all know who


who we are?


Time to figure it out,

realize the tears are always there,

just so many have already been lost,

the hope is sheltering the storm,

and we are all afraid to lose our own


Published by Thom Amundsen