by Kitamura

Every tear rolled out of the eye has different story,
Every drop of it makes a different memory,
Some lies in the corner,
Whereas some in the shower.
It follwes out when ones heart is full,
makes a whole of pool,
But no one understand its pull,
And leaves it in a mad school,
Where more tears comes together ,
Makes tear remind his fear,
For which his soul had broken the swear,
Now that tear has no intentions to be hearts near.
He wants to live alone,
Where there are no clones,
Where he can live with his memories in that zone,
That tear will then dry himself up with the help of o-zone....

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