It's the best place to cry. It's the place where it all surrounds you, Covering you, engulfing you, drowning you. It falls over you like every pound of weight placed on your shoulders, It falls and runs over your barren, exposed, vulnerable body, And when it hits the floor -- its gone, washed down the drain, But it's replaced by another, and another, and another, Never ceasing, never pausing, never calming. It beats at your back, your face, you chest, Until your skin in red, sore, raw. It's the place where you don't feel tears, It's impossible to tell if they're yours, or the water falling on you. It's the best place to cry, The shower.
It's a good place to cry, It's a mask that protects you, Covering you, surrounding you, isolating you, It hides every acid drop that rips away at your eyes and cheeks, It conceals you from others, banishes their comfort, It makes you alone, weak, vulnerable They can't see you, they won't know these feelings, they don't care. They can't see through their ignorance, so I've used it to protect myself. It's a mask that leaves everyone none the wiser, All you have to do is wipe the stray tears away. It's a good place to cry, Sunglasses.
It's an unexpected place to cry. It's a scary place, because everyone can see you. And the scary part is, they do nothing but watch. The ignorance of the mask is taken away, replaced with clarity. They can see tears, but they will choose not to acknowledge them. Light reflects from it, hiding some features, but the picture is still there, Staring them in the face. They can see the redness, watch the tears as they gather and charge your dry cheeks. They watch, but pretend they didn't see anything because they have chosen Not To Deal With It. It's an unexpected place to cry, Glasses.
I'm sorry. I shall take my pain somewhere else, Take my suffering to the farthest depths of my heart, In hopes it will not destroy my soul. I will feed your ignorance, Your picture of a blemishless world, And pretend I'm a perfect person, in your perfect world. I will suppress each tear, choke down each sob, and straggle each tremor, I'm exhausted, but I must keep running Running away from your misguided decisions, your accusations, your falsifications. They are like hot iron, branded into my skin like livestock. So, I'm sorry, I will destroy myself to spare your ignorance.
Time stops, and miracles disappear. Happiness falters, smiles fade. Stuck in 9-year-old lost memories, Lost in a 6-year-olds forgotten thought, Drowning in the tears of lost innocence. All motions are frozen to a shock. No deliverance between good and evil, No difference between right or wrong. Life suddenly loses meaning, As time draws on. Until tears run dry, Smiles become fake, And personalities are plastered on for society. Everything becomes a phase, and nothing is right. Until we only become what society wants. Yet once you are in need of help, You are pushed back, Back inside that cell, Of 9-year-old lost memories. Stuck in a 6-year-olds forgotten thought. Dead in a pond of broken-hearted tears.
Cotton batting fills my frontal lobes I'm too dry to weep You charge at me Your head a mallet Your fists restrained hammers at your sides "you getting ready to go out? " You say My eyes are soul-less, flat and gray As I turn to you My jaw opens, then closes Opens and closes Words weave in and out of the cotton batting And stick there "you getting ready to go somewhere? " You say Flames fill my chest and the words are pushed and spill out In monotone, with mercury dripping down my face I say "i'm going to visit my son in the mental hospital. " Pause My face, a classic flat-effect, "you know this and why are you making me say this out loud? " The sharp angles of the letters slice my throat And more mercury drips And acid fills the back of my throat My eyes are soul-less, flat and gray And you glare sharp blades at me Wrapped in a silicone shell of your narcissim "you look like you're getting ready to go out somewhere. " You say Chrome glazing over your eyes, over your heart With that, the cotton batting fills more space My soul-self doubles over in pain And with that The side of me that lived for you Died
This is how it starts I remember the sound of my stomach tying itself when I saw your text response that consisted of a simple "of course" Stumbling out your front door with streaks of muck on my face I replied; this will be fatal. A million footsteps away but you're still stomping on my toes so. i made it out of that town but [why am i still in your bed [why can't I get away. is it because I gave you my cerebrum? my muscles aren't moving. There's a record player in my living room, is this the end- it plays a symphony to me. it's talking now, the music notes are animated and walking towards me, this isn't living. there is no room for me inside of you anymore. It was a while in, we're from different worlds, my clothes were off, but I wasn't naked, at least that's what I thought and what I wanted. I look to the left and there's a syringe, I realized you've ripped my wings right out of my back but it took me two years to understand, it wasn't you. It's 7 o'clock and I'm gritting my teeth to keep down the words I never said but little did I know I was suffocating myself. There cannot be love without self hate, don't you dare compare me to still water when you know I'm the eye of the storm. I hear the clicking, [like a constant reminder of my teeth chattering when you said you were going to leave the page blank. they'll use your damp mascara as ink to permanently type X's into your wrists. My preference of Russian roulette is your tongue and I never understood why you tell me that Im prettiest when crying, maybe it's because your penetration is the one that makes me seem beautiful to you but not to the others. The ruby slippers to take me home, the ruby river flowing out of my nose, you gave me both.
tears.
Author: gone girl
0
Date: 04/04/2020
№ 1207566
The Tears of the Refugee
Donald Trump has slammed the door On families that had to flee From zealots who perverted faith And turned them into refugees.
He made a list of seven lands Where free will's treated as a sin. Their people flee to squalid camps Until a new land lets them in.
But Donald Trump has made it clear; He hates on basis of belief. He's stoking ignorance and fear, Inspiring terrorism's grief.
These refugees have nothing left But hope and will to work so hard To build a free and better life, But now they've been locked out and barred.
What of the Muslims in the states Who patriotically defended The land whose leader now spews hate? Is all their hope and love now ended?
Someday, if karma catches Trump, He'll lose it all and have to flee. Let him experience, first-hand, The tears of the refugee.
