Of What Use Is Cry!

it’s not that the eyes can’t see at times

it’s just the brain that can’t read –

the pain, dip as cells in our body; smeared on smiles

it’s just that our brains can’t read

 

beautiful things have scars too

that you are yet to see them don't mean they have not

beautiful people feel pain too –

it’s just so well-hidden that eyes always hit a blindspot

 

and after it’s happened to another Dante

we all gather to cry, mourn on crumbled mountains

But of what good is cry to a soul that aches no more?

of what use is remorse to a heart that beats no more?

 

Emmiasky Ojex