I hold this image of a man
Standing solemnly on a gloomy day
Perched in a field of concrete, marked by patches of grass
Fierce winds gust, yet his thoughts do not sway
As his eyes glaze over, and images are blurred
By rain being cried by an ex-lover, on a never-ending day
Screams are heard but no one is present
Still praying for it to end any other way
He knew it was over, but his mind kept on racing
And his heart slowly stopped beating
The rain stopped, and the clouds began to part
As life carried on, save for a still heart
And it was then that I realized that I was soaking wet
LITTLE TALKS 