Crier
Tears don't dry up with time, as some people like to think.
They sit it the corners of our eyes waiting to spill over like a fountain in which to drink.
We keep them at bay
With smiles and play.
And they stay away, for a time;
But in the darkness of our rooms,
When the loneliness ensues;
The fountain overflows.
And we cry.
Cry.
Cry.
What else is there to do?
We're human, me and you.
So we'll continue to cry,
Until the day we die.
When our bodies lie and cool;
While our tears gather in a pool,
And we die.
Die.
Die.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.