Immortal’s Lament

By: Carolina Alvarez

Oh how mournful the immortal is!

The silver teardrop of the past
Falls fast
Falls thick, past the thin eyelash,
Goes farther than his silent wish.

How pitiful, his troubled state of mind:

Painful memories remind
Him of-
Internal battles never fought;
Things he tried to leave behind.

How tragic, his saddened large blue eyes

Tell stories of his life,
Of a deep, personal loss.
His mirthless smile never lies.

How appropriate, the state of his attire,

Careful neglect, as his desire
To no longer walk the earth makes him cry.
Who died?

Torment is the name of his face

As he looks down through
The dark side of the glass;
Wistful dreams embrace him once more,
Wants not the isolation from things once cherished;
O, no more! No more!

His heart tears in agony

Bleeds in pain
Anger
Disgust;
Loathes his sorrow and his pain
Over and over
Again and again.
How horrifying, the sound of the immortal's heartbeat
Pounds like drums
Slowly
Dripping drops of bloody tears
While it slowly wallows in self-defeat.

He's stuck in the times of wasteland eternity

In the middle of a sea blood red.
Never changing is he.
Things grow old, things die
And the cycle of life starts again.

Oh how mournful the immortal is.

The silver teardrop of his pain
Falls again
Falls swift, like the hundredth drop of rain.
Goes farther than his heartbeat may,
Over and over
Falling away.