A droplet of despair
Dripping from once-dried tear ducts.
Flowing frequently
A flimsy attempt to hold them
Piece it together
Patchwork the pain.
Sew it silently.
With the excess crochet it
Turn it into a commodity
Then sell the once broken tears to the tradesmen at the stall.
Tell them you’ve got an ocean you’ll be bringing in the fall.
Hannah 
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