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raining tears
on rainy days i sit by the window
and think a bit too much.
tonight a raw wind flings heavy raindrops
onto the window pane, where they
splatter like paintballs, quiver, then
trickle resignedly down the chafed glass.
when it rains my room always smells
damp and clean but tonight it smells like tears.
that’s what i’m thinking a bit too much about right now,
about why my room smells like
sadness and anger and everything in between.
the rain is especially vicious tonight.
it cuts deep but doesn’t bleed,
it hurts but says it’s okay,
deafening but deafened.
and i still sit by the window, quietly
observing, just
observing.
i think the rain is crying and perhaps
it’s ashamed of that,
and shame always grows into hate
and hate always grows into anger.
another raindrop slams into the window
right next to my face but i don’t flinch.
i’m waiting for the rain to stop crying
because everyone stops crying at some point.
sometimes it takes mere minutes
and sometimes it takes days.
i’m willing to wait, though.
i wait and sit by the window
and think a bit too much.
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