tears that ooze out
glitter my fatigue creased lids.
sometimes I just need to cry
for the suffering and the pain of this world
and sometimes I am to weak
to even lift my eyes to the horizon
to see that light still seeps through
the curtain of human pain.
sometimes I can’t even smile
the way things once were
when I was young
and did not know
the poison of breathing.
everything has a tint to it of sorrow
for I feel so confined
The echo of youth…
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”