4The tears force their way out
Not a graceful way to cry
No perfect tear drops sliding down ivory cheeks
Nothing poetic to be seen
It's as though the rain
In its cruel mockery
Has simply spalshed onto my face
Nothing more, nothing less than water
But they dry quickly as pages are filled with words
Bury it, bury it
In art they say
But I know better
nothing more, nothing less than ink
And you speak to me
Oh! You speak to me
You ask what I write for
But I deflect the question
You tell me you love me
But I can see
Nothing more, nothing less than words
i am left once again to my pondeings
I no longer feel the urge to cry
Nor do I feel the urge to laugh
It seems this page has left me empty
A simple lack of pain
Life that is
Nothing more, nothing less