What’s within a Tear?

What is within a tear?

And from whence does it truly flow?

It hails from hidden abodes of heart,

sprung apart from embattled depths below.

What is within a tear? 

And how significant is its worth?

How heavy the burden escapes unweighed;

in dimensions of pain, unknown girth.

What is within a tear, you say?

Only the bearer truly knows.

Hearken that tune when it’s wrought.

As pain grows wings, let them flow.

Benjamin Thomas 




Deceived Contemplation

I hate the pained breath that is my life
worn on wearied shoulders.
The weighty grief residing in my chest,
like a pair of ten ton boulders.

Should I entertain shades of dreadful thought? Once interwoven fabric sours, stains, a twisted mind? Reflect a stolen image wrongly wrought, then refuse the true and greater kind?

Wretched Dirge



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His eyes uttered ardent desires

Her countenance replied in like kind

His heart fluttered in boiled frenzy

Her thoughts happily screamed he’s mine

His lips quivered a weighty “I do”

Her ring glimmered wet with shine

His hands were faithful and steady too

Her affection kept him in line

In time their love played a different tune

His eyes betrayed him for her friend

She sang a broken wretched dirge

with unknown words stark and grim

Her squelched love well spent sang

What the hell is wrong with men?





The Balm of Hope




My heart overflows

into the still of the night,

as seeping anguish overtakes the calm.

Weeping eyes worn of gnawing pains,

as wretched days grow harder to sustain.

Yet hope is fierce knowing no boundary,

her tenacious wings guide into the light.