People born in April are said to cry with ease.
I don't. I never have.
Even when I'd welcome hot tears as a release,
They just won't come.
Perhaps my April was cold, it's rain turned to ice.
So I appear "so brave",
Or am thought unfeeling, not quite 'nice'
When I stand dumb
Before the onslaught of life's agonies.
All because of that long past