As The Egg Bled Poem by Not Long Left

as i cracked the shell of the egg,
and as it bled out its unformed self,
i in tired confusion sat down and wept,
not for the egg, not for the sleeping loves,
of mine upstairs,
not even for the caged butterflies in my stomach,
but for you,
for you have slept for two years now,
sleeping under the soil,
this was to be the first time,
i had opened the ducts of emotional restraint,
and allowed my myself to paint my pained face,
with multi textured tears of sadness, joy, regret and peace.