Can teardrops dangle
Like glittering crystals of
A cold chandelier
Upon my lashes,
And somehow still
be worth less
Than the fleeting wetness
They leave
Along my disturbed cheeks?

Can my depression,
Which I have worked
So diligently
To allow to
Blossom inside me,
Be as devoid of
accomplishment 
As a single tear,
A soft unspoken cry
That tears my life
apart?

Can my actions,
Made in the darkness,
Cause anything
But turmoil and
Relentless
Meaningless
Poison in my
Bones?

Can this
Wastefulness
Of a beautiful opportunity,
Of a life,
Be worth my agony?
What will anyone gain
In this grueling process,
What will it earn?

Can teardrops dangle
Like glittering crystals of
A cold chandelier
Upon my lashes,
And somehow still
be worth less
Than the fleeting wetness
They leave
Along my disturbed cheeks?