Cry

It was that voice, the one that sounded so mad
That made her start to cry, that made her so sad.
It was the action, the question, the answer
Instead it was the rejection, the pain like cancer

It was the need, the want to know
Instead it was the force, of her letting go.
It was the desperation, for just a friendly talk.
Instead it was the anger, that took to stock.

Her tears, they were meant for her own face
She wept on a steering wheel, to hide in lace.
She wanted nothing more, than to be alone
But she had to, answer the telephone.

His words, so justified in his right
That in the apology, she found a fight.
It didn't matter the reason why.
He had pushed her, and made her cry.

A mood, is a mood even if bad
But what reason is it, to make someone sad?