I floss my tears through blades of glass
To be sure they are real
For many times they come and go
And I’m left with the feels.
Tears are rare, but they give life
To emotions I’ve push way down deep
Never to bring up, and then.
They lay dormant under my skin
Until they are needed again.
When it is time they burst like a floodgate
No telling what kind of reaction my words will take
They are shouts, or cries
Especially if I stub a toe.
But when I try to make them fall
They stay where they are
Because only painful experiences invite them
Or sappy movies
Or abuse to others and animals
Who am I kidding.
I cry all the time.
So, tell me,
How does one floss tears?
They don’t need flossed…
Or do they?
Over the years
I’ve shed so many tears,
And they disappear,
As if they were never there,
And I don’t remember the last time I cried.
Tears tears tears.
I’m going to cry if this timer doesn’t go off soon.
How much more?
Ding!
Tears!
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