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All there is to cry
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Reality Watching the winter
A wonderland of sorts,
The earth barren beneath a quilt of white,
Thick white,
The few things to be seen above
Dark, mostly dark,
Even on the sunny days
Dark
Oh so dark,
Breaking,
I am always breaking,
Dark,
Outside dark,
Inside dark
Feeling the need
The want
The urge
To once more leak
A crimson stream
Of nothing more than
My own pain,
Yet no diamonds fall,
Not like normal,
Am I just that numb inside?
Or have I cried all that there is to cry.
