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The Tear Cycle

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Hot tears that spring, in a rush, from behind her eyes
Boiling waterfalls careening down the smooth cheek
Stinging their way down the very path of a life
A palace wherein hurting has not been roped, and dwells unhindered.

Crystalline walls are bitter to the hand of the flow-
A voice that beauty still grasps flings itself in the way sometimes
But it loses its own self in the sound of the sobbing
Which is raw, and snags itself upon the diamonds.

In the evening, when things are quieter
And hope is asking if the roar of fire has died away
The hard and chocking sound of your earlier tears
Has once again been burned, in the heat of Today.




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UltimatebookwormThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 10 at 8:33 pm:
I really love this poem. The visions you create throughout the poem open the imagination and really heighten one's empathy.
 
SabbyCatThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. replied...
today at 8:26 am :
Thank you very much! That's really kind of you and I appreciate it. 
 
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