The problem is, my tears have vanished.
"The problem is, all my tears have vanished", I whispered to the window, The bus drifted on, soundlessly as modern buses do, Making soft whispers loud enough to be overheard, From the corner of my eye, I saw my co-passenger turn, scornful What a problem of privilege they must be thinking When the absence of a problem becomes a problem. The world outside the window moved unhurried, unperturbed, Unconcerned if my view caught a run-down house or a luxurious tree, This vista would not judge me, I gulped thoughtfully, hopefully? I am just a minuscule speck, imperceptible and so unimportant, I whispered once again, the sound barely escaping my lips, After all, wouldn't life hear soundless words that were unsaid? " The problem is, my tears have vanished," I messaged life, Life listened quietly and kept running, not stopping to ask why Just kept pushing one landscape after another, in a hurtful hurry. As ...