Her heart screams for the cradle of love’s embrace

Yet she gets left behind in the bitterness of the cold

The pain that leaks from her tears speak of injustice

As they so softly fall to the ground in utter silence

Slowly she walks with her head held down in shame

She reaches for the bathroom drawer with excitement

Carefully she searches for the blade of her choice

Running her fingers gently along the razor’s edge

It was like the sound of music to her unruly ears

As a lullaby sang in crimson streams upon her skin



By Glenn McCrary



© 2011 Glenn McCrary



(All rights reserved)