Rude Awakening
. for public domain
Tragic tears bare sour salt.
So saline the flavor,
although no one's at fault.
Uncomfortably warm
as they roll down the cheek.
Heat from an inner storm?
They always seem to stream
from the lips to the tongue,
rudely end a dream.
Our souls need to be rinsed,
cleanse too pleasant a sleep;
cruelty of life, evinced.
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