In the depths of sorrow, a tear may fall, A liquid echo of emotions, big or small. A pome of tear, in a single drop, A language of the heart, a release to stop.
Sometimes they come in moments of pain, Like gentle rain on a windowpane. A river of feelings, unspoken and deep, In the silent cascade, our secrets we keep.
Yet tears are not just born of despair, They also flow when we're beyond compare. In moments of joy, when we can't contain, A pome of tear, a blissful rain.
They cleanse the soul, washing away, The burdens we carry throughout the day. A bridge between hearts, they often appear, In the pome of tear, we find what's sincere.
So let them fall when they must, In sadness, in joy, in moments of trust. A testament to our humanity here, In the language of tears, we're ever near.
