Title credit-Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
For Sharu


Angels Cry

What will you do when you can't swallow the devil within you?
Would you wallow in the pain of being you?
What would you do when the magic of sunshine fades from the air?
Will you survive the ridicule of darker despair?
What would you do when the seas go dry?
Would you care to cry them full again?
And what if you can't see the star filled skies?
Would you give up every spark inside you for a little twinkle?

How much would you give to let a crying baby live?
Would you hold up a landslide with broken wings?
What are you willing to give up to see her smile?
Or did you drown doubt with dung?
How long has it been since the last sunrise?
Is it easy to pretend those aren't tears in her eyes?

What's the matter with you?
Can't you see I'm trying?
When did money become your primary prospect?
Choosing to ignore guilty hunger you humour her tears,
With wet tissues you dry the rain.
Will you protect her from thunder like she shielded you from flying sand?
When insult swells you swing unjust words to defend,
Where arrows pierced you pour sweet wine.

On a clear day moss doesn't grow on trees.
Rolling stones play summer tunes.
Fish fly,
Clothes dry,
Wind thrills little sand hills.

You climb with muddy shoes,
Tired hair,
Swollen feet
Hurry honey!
Smiles don't last forever.
Angels cry,
Stars collide,
In a manger a grasshopper prays.
Gates open,
Doors shut,
Windows break,
Sunlight streams in.
What would you do when two worlds collide?

Your elastic heart wrapped around her shoulders,
Kiss flying lies,
Kids will give in.
She won't believe.
The hunger subsides,
You run out of words.

Would you dare comfort with hugs?
Unasked for.
She retaliates.
Repeating her plea for solitude,
Space to be her tearful self.
You can't allow that,
It would deny you the pleasure of being the martyr.

Two hours later you still can't unwrap the layers.
Knives, spears, lip balm from the make out kit.
Nothing can scare her into revealing her sorrows.
Maybe they're too trivial to disclose,
Maybe they're too deep,
Maybe they involve hating someone you love,
Maybe they're inconsolable.
Maybe the dust on the shelf is meant to protect,
Maybe the cracks in the pipe leaks only one season
Maybe,
Just maybe, she needs to cry without a reason.



Poetry by Puddled
Read 694 times
Written on 2008-02-21 at 10:54

Tags Crying  Consolation  Random 

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