Tears run straight down
my warm cheeks,
no particular direction.
Just roll downwards.
Is there a reason?
Several candidates include:
a) a simple distorted memory,
a result of overthinking the situation,
one that has less meaning than assigned.
b) something hidden deep within
my bloodline that seems to have
knocked me off my feet,
spun me around blindfolded,
and placed me in a dark, unfamiliar room.
Filled with shadows whispering
endless emotion suggestions,
beckoning me to choose wise and quick.
c) a monthly catastrophe that defines
my place in the world of growing up.
But these tears don't actually have
any of these labels engraved in its'
basic chemical composition.
Temperarily speaking, the theory behind
the unexpected reaccurances of sudden tears
is the gradual build-up of
months and months of emotional bullshit,
piling up in a glass jar.
Resting behind my rib age,
sitting politely wedged underneath my heart,
directly next to my soul.
Maybe these tears just mean
it's time to empty the jar
of the tiny shards of what my mind and soul
are capable of keeping hidden away from
my conscious being.
The cleverly digused distractions
that kept my false idea of optimism
so wonderful, so falsely warm inside
my cold, dark soul.
It's time to let them go,
let the tears fall.
One after the other,
as the sobs escape from my aching chest.
Push the manipulation from behind my tired eyes,
and let it fall recklessly downwards.
