Tears in a crowd,
it’s such sweet pain.
My face is dry,
but my heart holds rain.

I’ve nothing left,
the tank’s run dry.
I have no strength,
not even to cry.

World weary,
barely standing.
The world’s still hungry –
still demanding.

So my bruised and wounded heart
stands among, but stands apart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s