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I can't believe what's been told so I hold the tears back on the ride home, hoping that that will make the news become untrue, and the truth a myth. Maybe this is all a nightmare, but, no I can feel the tears stinging my eyes, trying to be set free. But I know better. Crying was done at night, and to sleep. But I don't think I can hold on that long so, as I run home, with tears of blood, tears of fluid, turning my painted cheeks. painting them an awful, frightening red. like blood flowing down blood from a heart, thet was scarred and re-cut. Only harder this time, deeper. And all I can say is... The blood poured down. Because that's what it felt like. burning my face, my heart. I wonder... I wonder if they know I wonder if they know i'm not whole any longer, that I can't even cry right. That all I can cry is blood.
