Dry Eyes

Dry Eyes

She done cried so long she has dry eyes
No longer asking God whys
Almost as though her heart dies
…One last sigh…
Then it’s off to get in where you fit in
Big bright door leading to a life of sin
When you come from dirt and beer bottles, what’s left?
The pain is wearing on her flesh
They say skies the limit, she can be a chemist
But looking up at pollution everyday, that dream diminished
Her heart is dark and cold like the other side of the moon
Don’t care; she’ll eat off your plate with no spoon
Using what beauty she has left to get by
Using man made material to get high
She’s barley two and a half decades old
But you would think she’s been through double winter cold
Nature, nurture, or out of her control?
Who determines her role?
Everyone has a choice but she’s behind the eight ball
And what help are tears that fall?
Stuck between what has to be done and the fast life
She’s left the Tribe and the Quest like Phife
So when she can’t cry for herself, who cries for her?
God does during spring rapture
Knowing that, she can turn her life to the high side, God’s side
And she won’t worry about wetting a dry eye