There is a tear in my eye that has fought too long. Too many wars not cried. Too many losses not grieved. Too many scratch on the flesh and the heart. Yet it stays, my tear stays in its lair. Unspilled.
There is a chocked silence in my throat. Too laud for words. Too hurtful to ears. Too much for my loved ones. And it stays here, my words stays loyal to me. Unspoken.
There are stories in my chest. Too old for memories. Too fresh for histories. Too close to me. It pillows my heart. Untold.
There is a spirit in me that aches in misery. Too weary for the world. Too heavy on my soul. Too liberate for this dungeon. But it stays here. Free.