Posted: April 19, 2012 in Poetry


Lids stuck with labels;
Glue seeps into my tears;
Streaks mark my pallid face:
Tattooed suffering for those who look, to see.

Oh, out dammed spot;
I rub but can’t remove;
Scrubbed raw, an open wound:
Those shadows play havoc with my weary eyes.

Violent concerto;
A rhythm of pain;
A symphony of bruised hope:
Your strings make me burst into flames.

Are my tears more worthy now?


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