Cried Rhymes Novels & Stories

#Dorothy’s POV# There’s nothing left to cry, but somehow I’m still crying. My face is puffy. My lips are cracked. My chest feels caved out. My arms, limp. My legs, weak. But the tears just won’t stop. They fall in this slow, silent, constant way that makes it feel like I’m leaking from the inside out. I don’t even know what I’m crying about anymore. The babies? Rico? Joel?

(yeah) So, rockabye baby, rockabye (Rockabye-rocka-rocka-rocka-bye) I'm gonna rock you Rockabye baby, don't you cry (Rockabye-rocka-rocka-rocka-bye) Somebody's got you Rockabye baby, rockabye (Rockabye-rocka-rocka-rocka-bye) I'm gonna rock you Rockabye baby, don't you cry (Bidda-bang-bang-bang, alright then) Rockabye Rockabye don't bother cry Lift up your head, lift it up to the sky, yo (Rockabye!) Rockabye don't bother cry (yeah yeah) Angels around you, just joy your eye (Rockabye!) Rockabye don't bother cry Lift up your head, lift it up to the sky, yo (Rockabye!)

Silent rivers had already streaked down his cheeks, glistening like dew against sun-baked stone. He was crying.

I cried, voice cracking. I tripped on a stray root, knees hitting the dirt. “Didn’t think we'd get you so easily, tiger.”

A cry ripped from my throat, raw, broken, unrestrained. It was the sound of a mother mourning, of a girl condemned, of a soul breaking into pieces.

“HA HA HA...” The sound of Clyde's laughter was unnerving, a cacophony of darkness that seemed to consume the air around us. My voice trembled as I tried to reach out to him, desperate to understand what was happening. “Cl-Clyde, are you okay?” But Clyde's laughter only grew louder, his eyes glinting with a twisted delight. It was as if he had unleashed a beast within himself, reveling in the chaos and fear he had caused. “HAHHAHAHAHHAHHA!”

I suggested, eager to steer the conversation away from the matrimonial topic. "Can we sing 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'?" Julia's eyes gleamed with a spark of hope. "Absolutely," I chuckled, launching into a slightly off-key rendition of the nursery rhyme, hoping it would lull them into a peaceful sleep, filled with dreams of a happy, whole family. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb..." The butchered rendition of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" died a mercifully quick death. Halfway through the first verse, the melody dissolving into something resembling a strangled cat, the twins erupted in a fit of giggles.

At that moment, my eyes widen with hope, tears fall and I whisper. “Someone finally heard my call.”

My screams grow louder, filling the silence, as my heart pounds ferociously in my chest. My throat burns from the tears and the raw screams that escape me, and in that moment, I realize I have more tears inside me than words to express my pain. So, I cry. I cry until my eyes feel heavy and no more tears can flow. I’m not just crying for Richie; I’m crying for myself, for my dad, and for every single thing that has been weighing heavily on my heart. Each sob feels like a release, an acknowledgment of the struggles I’ve been facing, and I allow myself to feel every bit of it.

My hands are still on my mouth as I cried silently. 🔸🔸🔸