Cry, cry, wonder why
The poet squints a tearful eye

Sad face into the mirror glances
One teardrop streams out and dances

Eyes

Teardrops

although a little salty
they sometimes fall with care
a deep and careful beauty
this thing we call a tear

it's like

I am crying tears of ice,

cold and clammy

against a glistening cheek.

I am frigid in my pride,

And I have lost something

If you don't cry for me
I'll never learn to trust you
Never know how to make you see
I just want you to cry for me
Just cry

CRYING IS JUST A HOBBY OF MINE

Don't be alarmed when you see my tears.
You might find me this way any time.
I've been practicing