Cry to Death.

Stinging your eyes

tears brings you bodily pain

giving leverage to the cuts

bruises or scars you merely feel.

A mechanism that purges you

and drowns you.

It affirms, justifies your right to wallow in hurt.

Often you wonder if it heals

or merely aggravates your grief, rage.

If one looks closely, not with eyes, with humanity

each drop bears an image of the poison

or weapon that inflicted the victim.

Each drop bears life of its own

captured words, actions, expressions. 

A parade of tirades.

But tears, I hate you.

Life does not wait and you stall me.

Wretched tears, you trap me.
You pry me of stately grace
submit me to disgrace.

Indolently sliding, sparkly tears

you bare me my fears.

If all my life is flowed into you

and this lifelessness escalates,

tell me, what of me will be left?