Tears of Blood
The cloud cries tears of rain,
The tree cries tears of leaves.
The roses cry tears of petals,
But I cry tears of blood.
This feeling, you don’t know it,
It’s like being stabbed in the heart
With a knife.
What are cloud without rain?
What are trees without leaves?
What are roses without petals?
What am I without blood,
What am I without eyes?
The clouds are nothing.
The trees are nothing.
The roses are nothing,
But I am dead.
Is it better to be dead or to be nothing?
I do not know, although I feel that I should.
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