Strangers Weep Poem by James Tipp

Red rimmed swollen eyes
Sad eyes that gaze back
Seeing only yesterday
The look of scorn contempt;
How do you know?
The cold nights of suffering
The warm days of pain
What do you know?
A prayer!
Why not its over now
Yet even this is empty
How do you speak to a stranger?
Praying is like shouting
Into an empty room
All you hear is yourself
So cry a thousand tears
Weep for your own death
Cry for your own suffering
And God?
He weeps for those
Who call him strange