My tears are not a weakness
Nor are they a strength
They flow during times of anger
Despite my hate for them
They pour during times of arguments
Who knows why? Certainly not me.
During times of sadness they elude me
A mystery in itself
I do not wish for them to come
But when they do they're hard to stop
Do not tell me to quell these intruders
That only makes it worse
Leave me to my own devices
I'll be alright in time
No my tears are not a blessing
Neither are they a curse
They are both mixed and mingled
Unwanted but still there
A weakness? To some
A strength? To a minority
To me? Neither and none but both.