The painted roses have wilted to shrubs.
Rain showers against glass windows and my drawings.
Water seeps into ink
moving down my desk like a grey shadow
They cast tears down my portraits and fog through my still-lives
my fascinated eyes sit and stare.
Ruined and no longer beautiful
They refect the change in my life
How quickly came the rain's results.
How quickly came life's consequences
My insides filled with my crimes and sins
I find this injustice the worst.

The same salt in our tears is searing our cuts.
But yours,I'd tend to first.
To try and show how much I care
I will try my best to bear
The consequences life has given me.
Remember,the salt in your wounds must be cleared before mine
I really dont mind.