The tears that I cry, drips slowly off my face.
I dont know what makes, me feel so less of grace.
Its like the rising of sun, fixed and undelay able.
Dont know what I remember, why it is forgettable.
I am a happy soul, or so I think.
I have nothing to worry, no one to blink.
Still there are evidences, of the tears that I cry.
While I am alone somewhere, making time to buy.
In the core of my heart, there is a piece.
Broken but beautiful, call it a masterpiece.
Hidden very well, even from my mind.
Guess it overwhelms me, when my consciousness dine.
Masterpiece of hell, or a part of hell, I call.
Summons the tears that I cry, breaking a concrete wall.
Hell mocked bad, actually funds me,
To see through the grounds of darkness, and cut myself free.
Ruled by the devil, certified by red.
What signs to it give me, when it calls Beware?
Only a guess, I can tell.
The devil fell for me, and I, for hell.
Hence, the tears that I cry, is for the guilt, that I bake.
A fight between the two, eternals of the mate.
YOU ARE READING
The Tears That I Cry
PoetryThis is my first post on this platform, so I wanted it to be special. Hence, here is a page out of my collection of raw poems. If you can relate to it, then I hope it helps you, like it did to me. #9 on my first post
