liquid silver lines of water,
Sometimes blending in black Mascara
Abiding flow, one might call it my aura.
Lower eyelids, where they belongs
Stays for a while, sometimes leaves
Half of them are falling down
Rest in front of iris are gathered around.
Firmly the drops stopped falling
Tears should fall altogether
Not they shalt be Few
Broken tears now Are United
In the Eyes Forming a Dew!