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Tears now edge my guarded eyes
Attempting to escape
If ever they would be released
They'd flourish on my face

Glistening bright rivulets
Would etch into my soul!
I'd know not how to stop them
'Tis so long since they've flowed...

Asked, "Wherefore criest thou?
Why cower from the light?"
I'd have no words that could describe
The blurring of my sight
 
Tears now edge my guarded eyes
Attempting to escape
If ever they would be released
They'd flourish on my face

Glistening bright rivulets
Would etch into my soul!
I'd know not how to stop them
'Tis so long since they've flowed...

Asked, "Wherefore criest thou?
Why cower from the light?"
I'd have no words that could describe
The blurring of my sight

Um … Glad I inspired you, I guess?
 
It's your poem, not mine...
But it felt awkward to me, especially visage vs vision, and the whole of the last stanza, really.
Feel free to ignore me, or not.
 
It's just that I tend to get caught up in metre and rhyme, which can sound a little childish.
 
It's just that I tend to get caught up in metre and rhyme, which can sound a little childish.

That doesn't sound childish at all. Metre and rhyme are the very foundation of non-prose poetry; yet, there are times we must break convention for poetry to evolve.
 
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