Vital Statistics

My vitals were stable, but I could see, feel and hear my life fall through. My vision was blurry, the nurse said it was a side effect of a drug he had administered a few moments ago, but I knew the real reason behind those swollen eyes - tears.

Tears - the uncountable noun.

How do you statistically show how much you hurt?

"I cried one glass of tears for you, maybe a bowl"?

If I had collected all my tears in a large jar, maybe I'd have at least a year's supply of organic salt for my kitchen, every year.

What percentage of people living amongst us, amidst us,  have experienced or are experiencing depression, anxiety and other mental illnesses? How many of us are suicidal?

If I gave you the numbers, would I be accounted for presenting a statistical speech? Are we aware that these numbers are growing and at a frighteningly fast pace? It's a race between humanity and time, the final ribbon is either life (a do-over, a second chance) or death.

Who understands?
How much do they understand?
Do they even understand?
Insensitive, ignorants, iridescent (not two-faced, but multi-faceted)

 • Grief

That Sizzling Heart

Can you hear that sizzle?
Yes, the one where my heart burns deep red,
It burns in agony
It burns in disgust
It burns in the absurdity of mindless actions
"Put your heart into it", they said
It burned and burned, with roaring flame after flame
Until one day, it could not burn anymore
For it had run out of air
It sat there in its heat - bloodied red, fuming
Until what seemed like drops of water
Was in fact an ocean of tears
Can you hear that sizzle?
It's getting louder and louder
There's smoke now, I'm choking
Coughing and spluttering and blind
And then it all settles
The heart is red no more
The heart is soft no more
The heart is now black
The heart is now hard and cold
Like a lump of coal
Only waiting to be hardened
Into what I'll soon wear as
A diamond on my finger
A girl's best friend.

Or did you just hear me sniffle?

Unworthy

No, I will not accept it!

I do not believe for one moment that I was worth the way you treated me.

I do not acquiesce the lies you tell yourself about why you did what you did.

In the end, if all that was worth was taking from me what I had, so be it!

Be the ungrateful slime you are;

But I will not believe for a split second that I was or am unworthy of the love I deserve.

So, crawl back in to the pit of deceit and shameless grave you dug for yourself, for one day, you'll feel the damp earth beneath you and cold rain pour over you but not a soul to even flick the earth over so that you may rot in the open, your stench reminding others of the kind of people they are, for they pass by you, only to see how you've done in life and in grave.

Morning Person

It's the sound of her silent echoes
piercing through the night
that keeps her up -
and yet here you are, calling her out
for not being a morning person.
Little do you know
she rests when the birds begin to sweetly chirp
for that's when the crickety noise
from her unbearable silence breaks,
laying her to what she hopes is
her final rest.

A coward's crown

The ringing in my ears 
won't stop as they drown
in the silence of screaming fears
of decibels that crown 
a coward's upside down frown.