Stare off...
So abstracted...
Thoughts of flowers...
Constricted and withering...
Who can ease my weariness?
How do I escape from myself?
Blink...
And tear drops roll from a dull blue eye...
A pale and worn face turns up to the clouds...
Turns her face upwards and cries out softly...
A light breaks through the clouds...
A smile alights on her face...
The purpose of the tears have changed...
She is so often tired. She is so often in pain. She so often despairs but she feels as though she doesn't. Nothing ever feels very dark. When everything is spread out, sometimes, she feels a certain pang of desperation at her situation. But really, on second glances, it isn't near that bad. She doesn't think so. There is a little light shining. She stands in the mess of mud, tears, blood, and rags she created in the midst of floods of searing pain, but she feels so joyful. She feels so transcended. Sometimes she even flies.
Because He will soothe her weariness.
He will save her from herself.
He will hide her in the palm of His hand to rest her tired, jaded head.
Really, it's all she has left. But that is so much.
Be at peace. Be at comfort. Be in joy.
When I am so relieved, I wish, so much, that I could lie in my bed to sleep, and never wake up in this world again.
But that's a selfish wish and I blow it away quickly.