Fresh tears

Frsh tears i cry every day

waiting for it to stop

waiting for the cool down

every day apart of me gets washed away

washed away in the vast ocean of tears

the tears never stop 

and i get hotter and hotter

soon i will cry away the  dryland

flooding cities with my tears of sorrow

as they listen to my tears and brush me off as if i was  nothing

like i was some sort of myth

so i cry my fresh tears

crying out for a saver

This poem is about: 
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

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