the cold wind howls outside,
the sudden downpour makes the stray cats scatter,
and a car backfires up the road.

you’re drunk, you’re upset
make-up streams down your face,
intertwining with your tears.

a pathetic fallacy if i ever saw one.

i’m outside;
my flesh hits the cold brick
at the side of the house

i’m not drunk, but i’m upset
and i can’t let you see
so i prescribe the cold and rain as my remedy,
it reminds me that i’m still here.

and i shiver,
but it’s better then going inside.

going inside means that i would have to tell you
why something so trivial
made me break down.

going inside means that you would discover
the secret behind my facade.

because i’m not upset at you
and i’m not angry.

i’m scared.

this real world that we’re living in,
it’s beating me up.

i’m afraid.

because in my mind,
my fear and my pain
is not as severe as yours.

and i’m terrified,
that you’ll call me weak
and you’ll laugh.

so for now,
i’ll lean against this brick wall
and let the rain and the cold
become my drug.