The Lifespan of Tears

Time, as I drive my heels into the ground,
edges me off a cliff;

for when you are no longer a child,
nobody is responsible for you.

Too old now to blame,
old enough to blame myself.

Age invalidates my feeling,
each year a tick off my claim to victimization.

To those who say, “you’re still so young,”
I wish that were so.

A lifespan to work, to love, maybe, is a long time:
the lifespan of tears is not one decade.

If tears are what define me,
then I have been a  ghost for a long time--

unable to speak
unable to affect the world around me

except perhaps by being a fleeting
uncomfortable presence in a room.