the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me