A figure walks through my unused mind,
with fingers prodding and pulling,
picking off what is deemed faulty,
shaving away at my insides...
... slowly.

A tiny little speck of dust,
a hair, or something smaller,
lodged 'tween my mind's eye,
and the very thing at fault today,
brushing away my somber moods,
my cold defeat and that what used to be tears,
pearls of salty water fell inexplicably...
... no ducts were found inside.

/