Bitter Tears

She cried the bitter tears

of failure and defeat.

They rained down her cheeks,

acid in her heart

burning, blazing, seething.

She raged within

knowing

no one cared to hear

without.

Futile, she sobbed,

It’s all futile!

Dreams dashed

on a cash register.

Why must it always

be about money?

Why did heart

mean so little?

Anger threatened to consume

and she raged back,

crying out for God’s salvation,

His hand to move

these insurmountable mountains

of mammon,

a god she refused

to worship.

Yet, Caesar still

required

what was his.

She’d cut her wrists

and bleed for them,

as that’s all

she has to give.

But they don’t want

her blood,

her heart,

her energy.

No,

they just want

to watch her fall,

to laugh as she

curls up in a fetal position

and shakes her head

wondering what else

she could have done.

Failure screams at her.

It calls her names

and

she responds,

having heard its voice

so many times.

Despair feels like home

and home feels like hell.