Don't spill your guts to glazed eyes...

[a thought for a poem...writer's block]

She cries but it's just those crocodile tears. There's no point in bringing up what's been hidden by years. Everyone's secret craves for attention, but some things are just beyond simple-minded comprehension.

But I didn't know then this sadness
That anger
Was MY guilt for seeing.
For keeping my eyes open
When they are so easy to shut.

Ive come to worry about little things
like when you're smile doesn't reach your eyes
i worry about the screams...i can hear inside
and i wonder when you gave up...and why
when i was here all along
always in your arms

"If your heart is broken, make ART with the pieces"