Weeper

She cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where people can't her you. Her tears mixed with blood, not her blood, the red watery substance mixed to stain her cheeks as they ran down her face.

It was her fault but she cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where you know what you did can't be undone. Her tears mixed with blood to remind her of what she had done.

But still she cried. The soft sobbing kind. The kind where you want to stop so everything seems right but it's not. Her tears mixed with blood to scream at her that no matter how right she felt she can't make things right ever again.

She cried. The kind where you cry until your tear ducts are dry. Her stained cheeks a mirror of what she had done, an irreversible sin.

She cried. The kind that echoes in the night. Her spots of red on her cheeks a parody of how this one action has changed her life.

She cried. The kind where you tell yourself your still sad. Her cheeks clean, washed of her disgrace.

She cried. The soft sobbing kind to trick everyone at the funeral that your so very truly sad. Her cheeks filled with pale makeup mocking the dead.

She cried. The kind where tears creep down your cheeks. Her tears were clear now, fixed, she didn't have to worry about anyone finding out.

But she needed to cry. The kind where you open up the flood gates and let the rivers and waterfalls just flow out. But her cheeks were clean she had no reason to cry, why bother? she thought to herself if I don't need to.

But she really needed to cry. The kind where you wail and thrash. Because she hadn't cried for so long, because didn't need to, because she was clean.

But she desperately needed to cry. The kind where you don't make a sound because there is no emotion left. Her cheeks were clear so was her conscience.

But she had to cry. The kind where you don't care for who or why you just need tears. Her cheeks were so dry now.

But she viciously needed to cry. The kind where you force it out like an actor for winning an Oscar winning performance just a trickle down one cheek. But she couldn't.

She made herself cry. The kind where you have blood all over you. Her cheeks were so wet with tears and blood, not her blood, the mixture that has a sort of sweetness to it as it runs into your smiling mouth, because for the first time in so long you get to cry.

She cried. The soft kind of sobbing where nobody can hear you. Her cheeks were red with joy.

And yet she cried. The soft kind of sobbing where you simile because it's not the tears of the bitter sadness of death no.

She cried. The kind where your so happy.