terribly trashed, torn
and tossed
around
the people's belongings
litter the
ground

recovery after tempest
where to
start
everything in the shape
of twisted
art

rebuilding the job
so enormously
big
who'll help them
mend the tattered
rig
where's humanity's
aiding
twig
homes and lively-hoods
crushed like a
fig

an aftermath
to
contemplate
fierce driving winds
and rains did
saturate
the Atlantic's forces
wouldn't
abate
fury unleashed as if
in much
hate

teardrops falling
falling so
hard
teardrops falling
over forlorn
yard

Contemplate a teardrop,
and this is what I see.
A drop of moisture
from an irritation?
Some agree.

What is a teardrop made of,
just some water from a gland?
But brush it off and contemplate
the moisture on your hand.

It's also made of sorrow
or from pain that you may feel
A treasure of emotion
on your cheek
that might congeal

"Tears of happiness" are made
of joy or great suprise
That fall like rain in summer
from a pair of smiling eyes.

They course down cheeks in rivers
or collect on lashes there.
They form in silent puddles
when emotions are laid bare.

Tears are gems as precious
as a diamond that is mined
So do not take them lightly
if their origins you can't find.

They're made of things like music
that can make the heart take wing
Or how the soul can elevate
to hear an angel sing.

Only* made nothing!
Only that or this.
Only for a moment but,
Only for a kiss.

Beware conceived of something.
Beware of that or this.
Beware of giant thoughts in there.
Beware of mindless bliss.

Content took just a moment.
Content with that or this.
Content to breach the levy.
Content in the abyss.

Always stops at nothing.
Always that or this.
Always finding something.
Always gets the gist.

Amazed comes on in waves.
Amazed of that or this.
Amazed rained down in teardrops.
Amazed was not remiss.

Aware was very clear to see.
Aware of that or this.
Aware took all the rainbow seeds
And vanished in the mist.

Amazed, she kissed the Only.
Only touched Beware.
Content reached out for Always.
Amazed became *Aware.

If i showed you my teardrops,
Would you follow their track
From me eyes down my cheeks.
Would you hold my face gently,
As you dry both my eyes,
And whisper the words,
" You are to precious to cry"

When people ask what's wrong
I'm just going to tell them it's a long story
Because I really really don't want to tell people the whole story
Because that story
Now comes to an end...

I have come to know,

These teardrop bottles I've collected
Lying along with my books on these dusty shelves,
Will sit there and constantly remind me
That they've come to drown away the sadness
I have always had in my eyes

And like the rain to the earth,
They've come to mend the cracks in my heart
That had gone dry
When you were still my sun
Who brightened my days;

And, without me even noticing,
Had slowly burned my heart;
With the fake warmth of your love
All the pain each bottle now holds,
Somehow saved me from turning to ashes

One bottle for every night I've cried,
A drop of tear for every beat my heart skipped;
Bottles which kept not only tears and pain,
But the sounds of my voice at night
Whenever I cried your name

These teardrop bottles still call your name...

They climb up each wall, curved like the sun's breast,

At sunrise.

Then crawl, listless, to the rough ledge

To commit suicide.

They plummet.

Taking my aspirations as they dive.

Two teardrops with crushed hearts,

And, now, crushed heads.

Sunset.