After It Rains

August 18, 2016

I wish tears weren't made out of water.
I wish they matched how they make you feel.
I wish they were made out of fire and burned because they already do.
I wish they were thorny vines growing and growing slipping and sticking you on your face as your despair falls. I wish they pricked you like your sadness does.
I wish they were made of roots. To show how they are stuck. How your sadness feels as if it keeps getting deeper and deeper and deeper.
Tears should fit.
Water is cool. Water is relief.
Sure I cry for the lost.
Sure I cry for my pain.
Sure I cry out for the truth.
Sure I cry out for my own gain.
I cry and cry and cry
And water doesn't seem to do it.
I wish tears were made out of acid. To show how much it burns.
I wish tears were made out of knives. To show how deep it cuts me.
I wish. I wish. I wish.
But tears are made out of water.
And yes. When I cry. I sigh.
I take a deep breath. Because sometimes I do feel better. I do feel relief.
Tears are cool.
Tears wash away the pain.
Tears clean the wounds.
Tears keep me sane.
Tears should be water.
Because after it rains, the sun comes out again.

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