Unwept Echoes of the Soul

In the depths of weary nights, I find myself,

An exhausted vessel adrift in a sea of shadows.

A silent ache grips my soul, a weight upon my bones,

And I long for release, for solace unknown.

I stand on the precipice of tears,

Yet the tears refuse to flow.

They gather within, a torrent restrained,

Lost amidst the labyrinth of my weary mind.

What is it that I seek to weep for?

Is it the burden of countless days,

Spent in endless toil and weary labor?

Or perhaps the dreams, shattered like fragile glass?

I search the depths of my being,

Seeking the reason behind this sorrow's call.

But the wellspring of my tears remains elusive,

Hidden within the crevices of my worn-out heart.

Oh, how I yearn for the catharsis of tears,

To release the weight that rests upon my weary soul.

Yet, they elude me, like whispers in the wind,

Leaving me adrift in a sea of muted emotions.

For what is the source of my lament?

Is it the burdens of a world so vast,

That I, a mere mortal, struggle to bear?

Or the ache of unspoken words, left to wither and die?

I stand here, on the precipice of my emotions,

Yearning for the release that tears may bring.

But the reservoir within remains untapped,

Leaving me suspended in a state of restless longing.

So I stand here, in the stillness of the night,

Aching to cry, yet uncertain of the cause.

Exhausted and lost, I surrender to the unknown,

Hoping that someday, the tears will find their way home.