It runs down in a channeled place, you make it flow and leave no trace.
It’s easy to forget it’s there as one drop two, then pair by pair,
You can hardly tell but your mind does know when time to time a gushing flow
makes you gag the angered pitch and in control you hide the itch.
Silently and out of sight you dump what holds a tearful fight.
Yes I said it, if the truth be had, not drops of water touching land,
but the tears squeezed from deep injury, fierce nature rejecting inquiry
of innocence and gentile care who’d dump the lot and face the fear.
Without a sign or even flinch this is no forgery or glitch.
It will not go or look away. It won’t be silent or leave the fray.
You no longer can bear the load, not one more step forward down the road
The crushing weight from deep within has you stretched so very thin.
But that drop will come, it is in the books, like a loss to salvation’s crook
That care not your dire straight their blinds drawn shut to others fate
‘til the shell of you slums lifelessly at the roadside not a sight is freed.
But gratefully your soul retreats no longer bearing anything
As tiny as that infant rage you’ve gone unnoticed from future gaze.