crocodile tears.

You schedule them,
These tears that fall,
Like a tap ,
You turn them on,
then turn them off,
At your beckon or call,
Your face tells it all,
These crocodile tears that crawl,
That do not hurt at all,
They are empty,
no contents at all
The planning of the advent ,
When and where they fall,
Your shallow,
Empty,
No soul,
You honour your pride,
You enjoy the ride,
No sensation at all,

We could build a crocodile farm,
With all your tears that fall,
It wouldn't be so big,
We'd be lucky to get one,
If any,
At all.