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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Other · #1382632
After an argument, sitting coldly outside smoking a few cigarettes. The other was crying.
I do not cry,
not a single drop,
Ne'er do I think,
in this life will it stop

Yet I see in plain view,
the people flashing by,
anguished by my stare;
which is so coldly dry

How I wish from the
River of Anguish to drink,
listening with painful ear,
weeping with every blink!

Such a lot in life spared me,
what a savage, vengeful plot!
Yet I await the day when
life will spare, that single drop.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1382632-Tears