Tears

Tear drops are special,
They are drops of joy or remorse.
Many have spilt from my eyes the past months,
soaking my cheeks.
All is fine,
I force myself to say,
All is well.
What I hear inside is another story,
As my sould contemplates its goal.
Things have happened that I am unsure of.
What to say.
What to do.
Grasping a tissue in one hand,
And the box in the other,
I let myself spill over the problems.
Though I can not change them myself,
At least I can put myself to rest by looking at them.