When you get so tired and so weary during your journey, as the rain pounds against your drooping back, you feel the pain number than it ever was.
The world is dark, it’s desolate and bleak and drenched in the tears of the skies; down on earth the tears escape to freedom from my eyes. The rain and the tears mix to form one entity of flowing fury and there’s nothing to separate them. On and on, endlessly it pounds, the repelling nature of forces lashing back at the droplets.
And the rain beats on, strong against my back, the spiralling wisps of chill air leaving me cold and empty in the storm.


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