Segregated water drops, surface tension result,
Holding onto the skin on my face, fighting gravity.
Their iridescent look on the surface, tell lies of their existence.
Droplets of my tear, radiant and glowing gold dust.
Tessellated over my cheeks, like soldiers obeying commands.
Leaving vestiges behind, on their way to their demise.
The look of perfection, in shape and in control.
The struggle in the inside unknown, the fight against tension,
The fight to be shapeless, without boundaries, Incorporeal.
While fighting to stay the same, within boundaries, confined.
Fight lost, to the force, the force of gravity,
the force that never loses.
The unwelcoming cement floor,
the end of droplets.
There is nothing left but small splashes, exposed to the elements.
The threat of the cycle, from the cement floor to vapor to droplets.
And back again, leaving the flavor behind.
The never ending cycle of freedom and confinement.
The useless journey, from one opposing side to another.
The lacking essence of creating a new outcome.
The lost wisdom of Eve, undiscovered light.
Laminates for the wrong reason, darkness rules.

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