Fingers seeking,
lips quivering,
eyes blank.

I've know you to not be there.
Fatigue and sorrow are old friends.

The clouds dance in a rythm,
mourning, the blood overflows and spills,
spills,
spills,
till my face devourers it whole.

I laugh at the rain, pattering down my neck;
You don't even know me.
You mean sorrow but I feel discomfort.
This wretched pain, my stomachs knows you too well.

Stop, throw it out,
better yet,
feed it to the rain, put on a show.

Those blue eyes are the light,
breath before you die.
Death? Perhaps you were already cold and a corpse.
But your beating hearts tells me otherwise.