Silver dust.

Tears in my eyes.
The setting sun a sight for my sorrows.
My sores explore the twilight-zone to its most outer reaches.
Dusk falls with a soft sigh.
And the impending night covers my sadness with a blanket of grieve.
And so I await dawn with tears in my eyes.

A cry on my lips.
The crows in the trees a rasping choir.
The sounds as spears through the vastness of the dark.
Echoes return with a sarcastic answer.
And the impending silence hovers as a pack of wolves in the night.
And so I await dawn with a cry on my lips.

Pain in my heart.
An imaginary knife impales my chest.
Blood, dark and rich like ripe berries, flows down my body.
It is absorbed by the hungering grounds on which I have sat me down.
And the impending feelings of hurt rip through my mind.
And so I await dawn with pain in my heart.

And as slowly over the ocean the sun sets,
I heave my arms towards the sky and voice my cry.
And as my heart stops its drumming rhythm,
my tears obliterate into a cloud of silver dust.