Brianna Prater

My heart beats fast
As the tears cascade down
Staining my paper
With utter disappointment
From shattered hope.

My muscles tense
With violent recompense
And the feral wanting
To hit something
In hopes of relieving the pain.

My pen scratches across the paper
As fast as my mind thinks
And soon the lines are filled
With black
Tear stained ink.

I know I’m weak.
I need to grow up.
These tears are useless.
There’s no point in crying
Over spilt milk.