Tears

My attempt to exercise the demons. I wrote this poem a couple of years ago. It still moves me.

Tears

Like an unstoppable flood, my
eyes water, day after day.
They puff up like an irritated
bee sting until I can't see.
The tears that flow down my
cheeks are rivers meandering
through a lonely forest.
There is no babbling brook,
for they are silent participants
running from my despair.

My own personal darkness
threatens to cover me, like
an eclipse of thoughts that
wants to smother my light,
my being. The tears that
flow, are an attempt to bleed
the darkness out of me like a
purification ritual.

As they fall one by one off
my chin to my shirt, I can
imagine them as marching
away like Confederate
soldiers, defeated and
dejected.