Thorns in a cup
that cut so deep

My,

Soul is spilling
a flavor of tea

That,

Stains my glass
with history

And,

Washes away
the misery.

I bleed a handful
that drips to my feet

Until,

Oceans pray for
my lungs to sleep

So I,

Cough with the pain
that troubles me

And,

Drown away from
the world I seek.

I'm not God in any way,

My heart still beats like a stale parade.

Little drummer boy let the tears March on,

Until the band of angels carry him away.

-CMCrain

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