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The tears were like blood from an open wound.
Flowing in gushes like a pulse.
Disgusting and gory some would think.
I think, nay, feel, that those tears, were expression.
The eyes don’t cry so madly when pain is not struck.
Whether in the inverted form of pain, called love,
Or the hurt of a death,
A loss of someone or something.
Or even psychotic fits, from visions or memories that haunt and hunt.
But, those tears were of a passion like no other.
Like a rage and morn so violently shed across ones face, that words of the mouth, will never be able to speak of ones heart and spirit, as they releases so much to effect the rest of the connected pieces.
The tears are no longer just fluid flowing aimlessly out of one’s skin.
But are so much more.
Those tears were crying for someone.
Those tears were not physical, but heartfelt and terror.
Those tears were spilt for them all.
Twas a plea! A scream!
Begging without words or deliberate movements!
As I watched I too felt the erg to fall on my own pitiful knees and scream and moan just as they.