I've told her that I've cried my last tear for her. The well is dry; there are no more tears left to cry. But still she persists, casting about me with her divining rod, searching for some hidden pool of pure emotion, to slake her thirst for misery.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
your eyes and the pain of trying to find something
maybe yourself
it's bitter, the boy changing into the man.