The Art of Tears
My tears flow with ease...
Will I always feel this way, so empty, so estranged...
How do I wake my spirit cold...
The Story of My Tears
Warm and wet they
roll down my face.
In my mouth, they’re
salty to taste.
I do wonder why they
flow with ease; it seems
I have more and more
to shed these days.
I brace myself for
the worst flood yet;
I’m drowning deeper
with regret.
Losing so much to
never gain, a single
ounce of lasting
fame.
What is the secret
that others possess,
why can’t I, at last,
be someone’s treasure
chest…
Many faithful endeavors
I have filled with hard
work. Why did I give
so much without mutual
deserve…
Conductor raise your
dancing wand, but make
sure you wave it to the
saddest song.
At this age, I’m scared to
death, of my future
destined with crippling
loneliness.
As strong as I have seemed
to be, the unseen weeping
remains in me.
I really hate this sadness
overload. It’s time that
golden light shines down
low.
Splitting the sky through
the clouds, and picking
me up off these tortured
grounds.
Carry me off to faraway
lands, I’ve never seen,
and help me find
that place I can finally
feel free.
Splitting the clouds with golden rays
© 2015 Missy Smith