Wounded Deer

Through the lenses of my tears
I turn on my eyes lucent chandelier
to see the world further clear,
to see myself further near.

In the springs of my tears
I could wash all of my fears
I could see you all sheer
and I could see into tin air
all the grimes disappear.

Through the lenses of my tears
I could see the world
from the eyes of your pains
my dear,
in the eyes of
all the panting,
wounded,
deer.