Non-Erotic PoetryWho knew there could be so many tears?Every day.
I cry.
Some of the day.
All the day.
And yet there is
No end to the tears.
Flowing from an endless underground sea
Of pain. Sorrow. Loneliness. Loss.
Fed by the icy streams of rejection.
Difference. Indifference. Shame.
And there is no end,
For man's capacity to hurt
Is no less than man's capacity to love.
The only end is to feed the tears
From that other underground sea,
Who knew there could be so much red?
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