Tears express the sad, and all the things in life that went bad. Tears are the rainfall humans produce, tears are the comfort an artist gives their muse. Tears are a sound, a soft sob by the window, the soft piano through a storm. Tears tell a story, of pain and adventure. The tears fall, and fall and fall, like water off of a ledge. They tell a tale, of finding a way, out of the eyes and down your face. They tell of the pain of a broken heart. The comfort of rainfall, the comfort an artist provides their muse, shattered into a million peices. They suggest a comfort, but are a product of pain, pain that threatens to take lives away. Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, the tears fell and fell, created a river, they flowed and flowed until the well. The tears stop, and soon the river did too, then the water levels suddenly began to rise, so the people around lifted their eyes. The water turned red as the blood cascades, the tears turned into a painful state. Once you cry, you just can't stop, the tears will flow and flow until you turn the tap off. Let it comfort, but don't let it grow. If it grows, you may not come home. The tears that fall are like rain against glass. The tears that fall will soon come to pass. The tears are several shades of grey, not all good, not all bad, the tears in the middle do tend to pass. Not happy and white, not miserable and black. It's the shades of grey that soon pass.