Tears.

To what satisfaction

Do tears bring the soul?

They seemingly do nothing

But augment

An already gaping hole.

A hole,

Formed within my heart-

Some say it’s beautiful,

But take my word

This is no work of art.

Pain is not beautiful

And beauty is not pain,

If that were so

And this were so

All of life

Would be in vain.

Few truly understand

Torment

And I am jealous of their life

Because in any given moment

They have not known real,

Genuine strife.

Even with the peaks,

There’s simply no point to life,

And when the salty waves

Crash onto my cheeks

I am left with nothing

But burning eyes

A throbbing head

And an empty soul.