Love, if I cry it will not matter,
If I weep you will not suffer.
Honey, when you laugh; I do not care
and when you flinch, I do not move.

Death, Yes you! Take my husband well,
For he is none more than the word pitiful.
Unto thine I am a classic material-
Mearly here for thine image.

Unto thine woed, am I?
For I do not blink
and not do I smile;
I am far past filled by thine not feeling.

I am a cotton dropped on floor-
soaking in everything I touch,
Everything I breathe;
Whilst feeling any feeling at all.

I am a whiteboard marker pen, getting used up daily dry.
I am salt in the bath-
slowly disolving,gone.

I am the darkness in the night,
Giving way to another day.