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The Rain
It’s so sad here.
Walking, soaking in the world’s tears
The clouds are balling but what makes a cloud sad?
They provide windows to our souls which plague the ground at every turn.
They provide scents sweeter than any flower.
My clothes hug me gently now, as if the clouds themselves were comforting me.
But the others protect themselves from the world’s sadness.
Their shields disperse the tears exploding them like bombs.
The cars wrong the world too, crashing through their sadness with blind indifference.
They desperately avoid the rain at all costs.
Maybe that’s why the world is crying in the first place.
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It's supposed to be an imagery poem about the rain.