What can you do when your eyes want to well up with tears?
When they fall to the ground,
dropping from their plummet?
When there's enough to flood the world into Atlantis,
and they refuse to stop coming.
Rivers, lakes, oceans,
they spread and widen,
deepening their depths as the new water is added,
rising from the sheer amount.
And yet you can't stop them,
your eyes refuse to quite producing the liquid.
...
But now after the world's demise you run dry,
every last tear has been shed,
and none will come.
Or so you had thought.
I've cried for far too long.