A silent solitary tear

A silent solitary tear streams down my cheek. All is quiet now – there is no more weeping; I have moved beyond misery, to a state of oblivion. What was once a liquid anguish within has clotted and crusted into a heavy status quo. I am like a bloated corpse pumped full of black mortar now hardened. Hellish pollution a pin prick below the surface – a bog of black beneath the pink skin. The tear whispers it on a blank face. A hell accepted.