This would be evidence.

As I drive, hands in the steering wheel,
Cold wind blows on my face.
It drags my tears inside, behing my eyeballs.
Cleans the path
And do not distracts me from the traffic anymore.

It's better this way, now I can only cry outside in.

For the one who looks, there's only a look of sadness,
But not a proof of sadness.