I am not afraid of tears, at least mines.
They washed my body and eased my soul,
having evanished from so long.
Perhaps they do not realize all strength
had given to me by soothing past times.
At age, my mind is modeled to think that
it is not worth to weep, for life is trouble.
I want to turn into my early days, until
to my youth, yet infancy, and learn anew
to cry whenever I fall down; then weep
pretty enough to please the longing for.
No one ever need or must see such tears,
that will pour from my innermost being,
then work warming and pushing ahead
to final struggles compulsive a fighter.