No witness

All these suicidal tears drop themselves off my face to the infinity. They know it's their fate, their destiny. And I envy them for so many reasons... At least they got me to be a part of their decision to be their road to salvation.

But in the other side of the looking glass, I am seated in this bed, dark and cold, alone, with no one to stare at my own tantrum. I decide to stay quiet, swallowing frustration, letting my own tears be happy with their choice of self immolation. I got no witness of this act of commiseration. And it's OK 'cause it's my choice. I rather hit myself in the head time and time again to find light out from my skull without eyes to judge me.

However, out there, there must be someone/something anguished to be here... Me, I'm just waiting for the crash --- the moment of impact.

I can hear my happy tears yell - goodbye, cruel world!