Silverware trembled in my tired hands, falling
To the bottom of the sink, clinking against the metal.

Tears poured down my cheeks, and I choked on a sob
As I snatched up the silverware and continued washing
Spoons and knives; my eyes themselves seemed to throb.

If I was a mountain, and there was a god, it's true
That he likes to hammer me down and make me bleed,
As if he somehow enjoys the pain I'm going through.

But I'm not mad at a god, for I believe none exist,
Certainly I have enough things to miss
Without adding a deity to the list.

Wipe the tears away, I can do that;
I've been doing that for years and
Years of this crazy life
Through which I've learned to bear strife.

I'll wipe the tears, I'll hide my cuts
For however long this lasts.
But when the time comes
And it's all in the past,
I will cry.