Clockwork Lives

Sonnet: Slave To Your Tears

I could say your tears doth glisten like pearls,

But never would they trickle down your face.

And those pearls round the necks of wives of earls,

Past your high cheekbones I couldn't trace.

What's more, you don't wear them adorned with pride,

Rather, wish they were invisible ink;

So that no-one could see them slip and slide, 

And distill your manly pride, I think.

But I cannot cry; I'm hollow with death -

A gaunt spectre of insanity's call.

Born of bloodshot eyes and alchohol breath,

I'm still a slave to your tears as they fall.

With tearstained face and solemn kiss goodbye,

You sigh, and ask, "Why did you have to die?"