Tears on trial

My tears are not guilty, your honor.
They are locked away in a tiny brain cell,
accused of shame, silence and surrender.
Oblivious to the freedom that they render,
they were banished at the coronation of strength.
 
For years my forlorn tears stood by and watched.
As pain scavenged every bone every nerve,
every breath that I serve - for an exit.
My hubris has now turned to dust,
my arrogance has flayed to rust.
I withdrew to withstand
I suppressed to survive -
This echo of empty inside me.
 
I now crave solace in sorrow,
Before you I kneel, today not to heal but just to feel -
a warm drop of tear
lifting the heavy baggage off my chest
and rushing towards gravity,  
like an avalanche running down across my cheek,
that moment of weak,
is all I seek.
 
For as much as
it takes conviction to stand strong,
it takes courage to shatter -
unabashedly and unapologetically.
At this exhibition of emotions,
exonerate my tears, your honor.
So they no longer need to hide behind the curtains of my eyelids as convicts.
For they are not guilty, your honor, not guilty