Nonsense #58

The tears fall like rain
In a storm, harsh and unrelenting.
Yet they’re silent,
Not a sob, nor a sniffle
Is heard. Quiet crying,
A sign that no one cares,
And yet she can’t help
But be entranced by her
Reflection in the glass,
Tears make her pretty
And grief makes her kind.
What’s wrong with her mind?

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