You lock yourself in the room,
allow your body to pour down the
wall like quicksilver.
Sit on the cool, damp tiles
as the lonliness you work so hard
to avoid seeps into you.

Slowly, slowly, you allow the
tears to fall,
soaking into calloused skin
as fingers tie in knots
with little aim or
purpose.

"The world is cruel"
you tell yourself,
lips moving with words
that have lost any
tangible meaning, as
tear tracks mark your
sorrow.