reborn

You have eyes that jitter quaintly,
a heart with bitter sanctity,
some kind of stone for teeth
but brittle bones.
Lungs with maggot
infestation, 
a people pleaser death teaser,
a drink driving maltester,
your sweet but your broke.
and when it all turns on you,
when no saint is there for you,
you'll cry,
then wonder why,
tears don't dry themselves.
Water will gather,
but there won't be a well,
it's impossible, to cry through hell.
There are those out there,
that point the finger,
without stopping to care.
To those you are no more,
even before you're gone.
The funny thing is;
when you go,
it is they who will suffer,
you are reborn.