Here tears reign,
And Self cannot be pulled together
When Self is screaming, torn asunder,
Where empty shell is welling up whilst
Eyes of others roll
Against the failings of this
Selfish child,
So called because
She cannot rule what
Others hide and stow away.

'Midst the back streets of her mind,
Her common sense is raging cruel
To lash her weakness,
Scorn self-pity
And loathe the drama queen
She...
Is?

She knows not where or when they storm,
What beaches, rocks or mountains they
May break upon to crush the hope
Her heart is struggling to beat for.

They come,
They fall,
They rise once more;
They hide,
They stalk,
They spring their prey,
And here they reign upon her face,
Whe'er brought forth by her pain or fault,
Or just
Because
The Universe decreed
That dry and barren desert dust
Must roil in oceans of hot salt.

No reason can she offer you,
Save simply that she simply waits;
She waits and hopes she'll cry Self dry,
And cry the
Nothingness
Away.

But whilst she waits,
Begs she your patience,
A plea for empathy so dear,
For she can give no explanation,
Nor save all from embarrassment.

Her theory is that tears are words
Her soul cannot give form to speak;
Perhaps her pills can create letters,
Or better,
Take the need away.

But as it is,
If you see her cry,
See her tears as weeping wound,
A broken leg her mind can't lean on,
A sore her hurting spirit tells,
A healing for infected soul.

No need to judge or second guess,
For where tears reign,
Dwells already,
Only,
Always,
Crying
Shame.

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