GloMag GloMagMarch2020 | Page 380

THE LAST DROP (In A Despondent Mood) Sakha the pools of my eyes have dried shallow sorrows will not drown me struggling in oceans of uncertainty. I beg for that last drop which only you can draw from my eyes, tired of waiting and wondering what the face of death looks like. While sharks hover smelling the blood of betrayal, rejection, loneliness, yearning as waters turn red, they tear morsel by morsel. 380