Crying

[donteatacowman]

The path of each tear felt like a separate scar,
And the salty water like the blood.
She had to hide her face, hide her wounds
Each tear trail showed her weakness
And no matter how cold the water she splashed her face with was,
No matter how hard she scrubbed,
Or how many times she imagined them away,
The scars remained on her face for all to see.