I practice crying for a funeral
Who's guest of honor still lives and breathes
But my death is inevitable

I watch my face contort and twist
As tears fall from my face to the floor
The mirror's edges mist

I do not rehearse this for the drama or attention
I do it alone, behind closed doors
Because when I read the pain on my face
It seems so familiar and certain

I cry
Simply because I can't stop
So I conjure up a reasonable lie
To tell myself

My eyes are blurred and shining
My lips are swollen and pulled tight
My skin is red and blotched with all the colors of rushing blood

I finally look like the person
whose thoughts run through my mind all day
This is who I should be

I should be wrapped up and trembling every waking moment
Trying to drown in tears