Mona Lisa's tear

For years I've been the guardian of this place
watched the comings and goings of travellers
who never thought to thank any god
for arriving here in one piece. 
My gaze- you might call it the male version of Mona Lisa-
has rested comfortably on the ordinariness of this urban motion; 
this urban emotion.
But here I am, with this tear perpetually tattooed onto my face. 
A tear for those who will never again feel the salty taste of their own tragedy;
a tear for those who have run out of tears to cry.
The urban emtion of this place is forever changed from ordinary to existentially disorderly.
And my Mona Lisa-eyes have become one with a city in mourning.
Not secretively smiling, but desperately holding the broken pieces together. 


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