(Poem) And the heart grows weary
Your mind fills with rage as it clouds in red,
The blood of anger thick and boiling
Such madness the heart beats
Wildly and loudly
Until only the sound of
Heavy breathing is all you can hear.
And you don’t realise it is in fact
Tears,
Because you are crying but why
You will never know.
(Or maybe one day you will, but
Not today though, no.)
Your heart beats too hard
And your mind feels too hot
Yet you feel it tempered
Like a glass off the coast of Murano,
Blown and hammered to look pretty
And only pretty until someone drops it-
Then it isn’t anymore but
Just a glass that doesn’t break,
Only cracks.
You cannot hide cracks though,
Like how you cannot hide sobs and cries
Of which plenty you can give
Whether in
Happiness;
Anger;
Sadness;
Rage;
Pleasure;
Frustration;
Contentment;
Annoyance; or
Exhilaration,
The tears will always be there
Forever present
Always steady
Like a strong river that flows
As surely as time passes, and
With each minute the steam carries,
The grows tender, weary
A little worn for wear
And you must wait for another day
Before it can beat again
For another to love and live
And laugh as it wont to do.