Its coming and going,
These feelings are slowing.

The rain continues more,
The water in constant pour.

In this room drowned in desolation,
Meager comfort the only consolation.

I think of who these people are,
Unfamiliar lives and minds by far.

Asking questions till lips curled,
Will not be able to change their world.

Unsure if I am willing or able,
This is real life, not some fable.

I do what I can devoid of bliss,
What sobering living consists of this.