6 February 2014
Grandma called them crocodile tears,
Big drops that leaked out in younger years.
But now they catch my face off guard,
When my body can’t recharge.
Mascara streaks down my cheeks,
As I look for creative disguise techniques.
It hits like me lightening,
When I’m tired of hiding,
It makes my body lifeless.
I try to fight back this pain attack,
Crawling inside this bag would be priceless.