All my tears I have shed
and even the ghost did fall
if tears have ghosts at all.
All my teas I have shed
and I plan on shedding no more
that is if any still exist at all.
All my tears I have shed
and a lesson I have learned
although a hard way
it is forever etched in my head.
Life isn't a bed of roses,
love ain't so sweet and rosy
and as I sink deeper into
a slough of despond,
a stray tear crosses my face.
Alas, I still have a few tears
more to shed
and shed them I will.
YOU ARE READING
Words on paper
PoetryIt's like a fire a growing flame, going higher. It is building up, an uncontrollable wild fire. It is consuming, choking, I can't breath. I've got to let it out someway, somehow, I've got to relieve this weight, I've just got to let go.
