The Rivers

Tears half dried on the side of my face
Mascara drawing a path to trace
Follow these rivers, where do they go?
Down a waterfall far far below.

I have been crying since I was a babe
Seems whatever wounds time did not fade,
Sometimes so sudden as a spring rain
My tears fall in rapids again and again.

'Oh how sad!' you say, covering your gasp
'Never mind, it's all fine' I reply from under my mask.

Though I write you and do not hide you
I know well enough no one sees through
And so when I'm alone and see the clouds
I withdraw and ready for the thunder loud

Because it's useless to shout at the weather man
He will not stop the rain, seeming no one can
It's just a matter of waiting it out
Cowering in the corner, hoping it's a short bout.

I feel that I only write when I'm mad or sad
So maybe the rain is a way to release the 'bad'
Perhaps someone some day reads this pleased that is true
That someone else somewhere, feels just the way they do.