The Tears I Cry
are simple; something even the most
understand. Can you understand why I
find it so simple?
Will you ever understand the
reason I always
cry at night? The tears seem like silver
to the moon, to
the sun; golden drops from another planet.
You, what do you hold
them as-just drops? Aren't I more than that,
though, more than anything
you could've ever thought of? Aren't I just what
the doctor ordered-for the pain,
the sadness? And you threw me out, only to bring me
back again, and each and every time, here
I stand, by your side; fresh from the countless times
you took me and gave me away again.
I can't cry anymore. My tears have all been used
up. I got tired of crying, so I just
stopped; instead I stare at the clouds,
watching them frolic about, hoping one day
it'd be us up there.
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