Cry

The things that make me cry
Are numerous;
The sting of the wasp and the beauty of the sunset
Are equals
In my eyes.
They drop tears for either,
The beauty
Or the pain

Emotions are like rivers
All feeding into one great lake
Bloated and stretched
By the dam at its head.
When the water cascades over the concrete
It matters not where it came from
Only that it escapes
One drop at a time

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