solution

.

The dam of silence burdens us too hard
Behind our brow, the pressure's far too high
The hand we hold leaves us no other card,
So come; the weight's too much. It's time to cry.

We're all alone. No one will mock our sobs
We'll prime the pump with brine, our eyelids pursed
The others all are busy at their jobs
And won't be here to see us at our worst.

We pray our brain's endorphins buy some peace
Two ducts purr like a cat behind our eyes
Too much to hope our cares might really cease
But, for a time, the hard lump liquefies.

The silent burden won't be eased by sleep
The load's too great, so come: It's time to weep.

.

revised Feb 2020 (line order changed for a contest; third place!)