The Wasted Tears

Poem By Josiah Hutchison

The Wasted Tears 1/26

This poem was written after a friend and I had a
freindly argument about whether or not it was
easy to write free verse. I said it was, so I
went home and wrote this. At first it begins as
a satire of E. Dickenson (b/c I think she sucked
except for that 'Comming in the Fall' poem) and
then gets kind of serious at the end. Defiently
not my Magnum Opus, but it make me chuckle b/c
of the random dashes and other Dickenson stuff.

Tears-like petals from a wilted flower.
They dropp to the ground-wasted over
problems-smallest ones always.
Loosing their beauty-every single dropp
is another step into insanity. It
reminds us that we are nothing-
nothing but a passing vapor.
A shade of the world's destruction.

Every tear-shed needlessly-is a
rejection of it-the truth. What is
truth? -a simple question. A question-
does it have an answer? Can you
tell me-can anyone? What is it-
truth?

Truth is that we are loved.

The tears-the ones shed needlessly-
sadden the face of God. The lack of
it-the lack of hope. Hope-it is His
gift. We return-with tears and rejection-
we hate hope. We want destruction.

So what will you choose-this night?
Truth-or Fallacy? Sadness-or joy?
Hope-or destruction? The choice-
it is only yours-will you be loved?

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-Another-
Josiah Hutchison and Matt White

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I can almost see your face-
I can almost hear your voice-