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Tears and Rain
My tears are like the rain,
But unlike the rain they fall,
Down my cheeks like rolling hills,
Through the cleft in my chin like a canyon.
But after I cry, my face is wet
And the rain hasn’t come so the ground is dry.
As a tear falls off me down below,
It hits his arm and evaporates as it reaches the ground.
It left a trail through the dirt on his skin,
I wander if my face matches the pattern.
Unlike me, he doesn’t shed a tear, perhaps that’s more like the rain then I.
He looks so peaceful, unlike the days that I would now think of as his last.
I feel the wetness on my face drying,
I look up at the sun surrounded by blue,
I take a deep breath,
My crying is through,
But still mourning his death,
I start to head west.
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