I find myself once again staring blankly at the poor face of misery I see in the mirror.
No noise is made and still wet, stinging tears stream down from my sad, longing eyes; across the heart broken face.
I do not wipe away tears.
Is it sad that through countless trials of let-down and regret that one learns to not disturb the shower of the eyes for that would cause red, swollen eyes--leaving evidence for others who might inquire as to the reason.
What can be said about a lonesome girl who lives the life of someone twice her age while those around her, whome she can only wish to be like, spend their youth as intended?
They smile because they are happy. They do not have the ever-lurking memories that block any light from stealing th epainful darkness of regret.
I smile to keep out those who may want to help. If they see a smile, everything must be fine. Tear stains would only lead them to believe otherwise.
So here I find myself shedding the burden of agony through tears that will surely return when i am again at this low...It is then that i will realize none ever left.
For I do not wipe away tears.