THE CRYIN' PILLS

I'm not a crier, all that much.
I've seen a lot of life.
"You have to be philosophical
and let things pass on by."

It's not that I've been hardened to
the sadness far and wide.
I still tear up when I think about
the day my daddy died.

Compassion filled my soul right up
when I saw someone in need.
But tears stayed locked behind my eyes
as I took them in to feed.

Then the doctor gave me some "cryin' pills,"
although they were not for that.
The medicine is for my puny lungs
so I won't pass out flat.

So since I've been on the cryin' pills
I've turned into a sap.
Dogs and cats and dirty kids
are welcomed on my lap.

I prided myself over sitting through
a heart-strings pulling show.
I'd say, "what dumb and mushy junk
Why did I even go?"

But the cryin' pills have opened up
a flood in the dessert sand.
A gulch, a well, a dried out spring
and worms slithering out of a can.

I've got to stop! I just can't watch
the romance and the love.
I cry into my late-night snack
'til my eyes are puffed and shut.

The Hallmark Channel is killing me
with endings so happy I could die!
My husband hands me the Kleenex box,
I blubber and blow and whine.

Those shows are designed to tear you up,
as if medicine weren't enough.
They meet, they like, they hate, they fight
and then they fall in love.

So, what do I do while I'm sitting here
struggling to breathe while I cough?
Quit thinking about the world and it's woes
and turn the TV off?

Janet Brice Parker, 2003