The Crucified Tear 1
A little boy once shed a Tear
He hid it in his fist with fear
Of mockery, and of the world
He returned to his bed and curled
As he still held on to it tight
He remained as such through the night
And with the morning light, he woke
He sat up to find Fate has spoke
His dear Tear to be arrested
A sentence not just suggested
Fate had not jested, but it's just
Thus he had naught but put down trust
How not after what he was shown?
The Tear was crucified that dawn...