A drop of sorrow begging
to glide down my cheek,
and a counterfeit grin spread
across my face, telling me to fight
the tears. I'm blessed with
the cold presence
of heartache and yet
I still feel solitary, alone.
There's a dead emotion from the
center of my sole to the
bottom of my heart that's telling
me to let go of the metaphorical
hand of life.
The cavity in my mind
is thickening and the strength of
my grasp is growing limp.
A drop of sorrow begging
to glide down my cheek,
and a counterfeit grin spread
across my face, telling me to
surrender.