I see your sad eyes.

They grab my attention more than the numbness of your smile.

They say eyes are the pathway to our souls, and I see your soul is tired.

I live here, and you live there, and sometimes it feels like galaxies away, but most days I feel like a foreigner in this land where I live.

I came from the land of disease and famine, desperate for a drink of water. I came from the land of sad eyes.

Here I am now, same eyes, a new soul. I can offer you a drink of water, but you don’t want it.

So, now what?

You crawl through the desert, belly cut up from the dryness of the ground, desperate for rescue.

I am not the rescuer, I have only a drink of water.

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