Take the Silver, Make it Rust

There are some things, people do,

When they can only feel blue.

They take the silver, make it rust,

For they feel that they just must.

People see, but do not tell,

Scared of what hides behind the veil.

The red drips, the tears crawl,

Each liquid like a waterfall.

They hope to wish the night away,

But only demons forever stay.

Try to hide their fear inside,

But that silver makes it fly.

Watch the tears run, watch it burn,

Until you're the one in the urn.

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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