Tears
If I never wept, would I drown in my grief,
I,ve made the eighth sea and there,s still no relief.
I don't comprehend, just what do they achieve?,
I know that this pain, they do not relieve.
Soon to be scars where they run down my cheeks,
A deluge of aqua for days, nay, for weeks.
An obvious track a quick swill won't remove,
A mask painted on doesn't seem to improve.
My eyes carry buckets, not bags like the norm,
Feel they will not cease till a valley is worn,
I see my face change as it carries the weight,
Forty six years!, I look hundred and eight.
Copyright © Carolyne Lloyd-Hartley | Year Posted 2010
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