Tears

You ask me,

“Why do you cry, child?”

Let me tell you:

I cry because I want to wring out my pain.

Inside the chambers of the heart,

Is a dead and dried-up ache,

Sticking itself to every thought,

It stings and stifles myself

Spawning in the empty spaces of my life.

So, I cry, and I say that I cry

To dissolve the dirt of dismal in me

With the heat and salt of my tears.