She is crying rivers, but
there’s no solace for her pain,
for her heart got shattered into pieces,
to a degree beyond repair.
Each memory she felt,
was reflections of her scars—
which makes her cry even more,
for she is a bird, with broken wings,
that cannot fly, through the open door.
She smiles for a moment, then
her grin fades away,
so she puts off everything
to cry another day.
She looks in the mirror
and sees her other self-image,
and says nothing’s left for me,
beyond the next page;
as she walked away with despair,
to her last tipping edge,
then she stopped, and wiped her tears
to never again, fall off the ledge.
So, she composed the broken pieces
and threw out the crashing pains and fears
she decided to find her youthful age,
when she dried, her last drop of rainfall tears.