Tears

In the realm where sorrow reigns,

Where anguish dwells and heartache strains,

There stands a vending machine divine,

Dispensing solace, one tear at a time.

Each tear, a vessel of hidden woes,

Carrying tales that no one knows,

Gathered from souls who seek release,

A moment's respite, a fleeting peace.

Insert a coin, let the sorrow flow,

Watch as the tears begin to grow,

A cascade of pain, a waterfall of fears,

Released from the depths, unburdened in tears.

Each droplet contains a story untold,

A silent anthem of a heart that's bold,

They glisten with memories, both bitter and sweet,

Emotions captured in every teardrop's fleet.

Salty rivulets, they fall like rain,

Washing away the ache, soothing the pain,

They cleanse the spirit, heal the soul,

As they trickle down, making brokenness whole.

With each tear shed, a burden's shared,

A load lessened, a sorrow pared,

For in the vending of pain, there's relief,

As tears transform grief to belief.

And as you weep, let not despair hold tight,

For tears are but whispers of courage's might,

They carry the weight of battles fought,

A testament to strength that can't be bought.

So, let them flow, those tears of woe,

And from the vending machine, solace shall grow,

For in the vending of pain, we find release,

A tender balm that grants us peace.

©® MURSHIDA PARVEEN