Sadness

Sadness is leaking
Like broken plumbing
Sewage of pain
Better out than in ey?

Trying to stop the leak
With bad habits
Chocolate
Mainly

No drugs
Never drugs
Brain on emotional rollercoaster
And it keeps spilling everywhere

If you don’t watch it
It will stick to you
After a hug with me
I don’t want that

So I leave
Walk alone
In the dark
In the woods

I am not scared
I am the woods
I breathe the silence
I am never alone

They all died
Slowly
Painfully
The perpetrators
Cheating me out of my revenge

What now?
I have no choice
But to heal now
It’s painful
Healing

Scars hurt, itch, bother
Sadness leaks everywhere
Like a flood of gue
I can’t stop it

So I just let it leak
Let it spill out
Send it on it’s way
It will stop eventually

I know

When the world drowns in tears

Every tear carrying with it an infinite amount of pain
All around you
Inside you
There is no escape
Just pain
And sadness

The girl with the bleeding feet
Red shoes swirling wildly
Towards the abyss

Every drop of blood carrying with it an infinite amount of sorrow
All around you
Inside you
There is no escape
Just sorrow
And grief

Are you out of tears yet?

Are you out of pain?

Are you out of sorrow?
Never, ever again?

Just stop being silly
It will never end

But there is a hug
And there is a talk
And there are friends

There are birds in the trees
And flowers in the grass
There are rays of sunshine on your skin
And grey days for cuddling in

So cry your tears
And scream your fears
And bleed your sorrow
But then tomorrow
You get up again

Is the ocean really full of tears?

Cried by mermaids?
Cried by you?

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

Who else would cry so much?

All the wars?
The ones with weapons, the ones without.
There is no space for tears.
All the hunger?
From lack of food, from lack of love.
There is no energy for tears.
All the violence?
Sin against bodies, sin against souls?
There is no breath for tears.

So where do the tears come from?

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

They come after.
Once it’s over.
I think.

Because after.
There is space.
And the duct tape that held your soul together.
Rips.

I wonder.
I ponder.
As I watch tiny droplets turn from crimson to gold.

If.

There is an after.

 

There is hope.

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