Anjelina Winston

A Rainy Night.

It pours and pours,

covering something with it\'s translucent sheet.

I wonder what it is,

that it\'s so dearly trying to hide?

Is it the despair of that child who waits under the streetlight?

Is it the broken heart of that teenager who stares into the void?

Is it the anguish of that young man who thinks he has failed his life?

Is it the boredom of that old woman who sits in solitude?

Is it the contentedness of that young woman who looms among the big buildings?

But why is it the way it is?

What if a flower blooms, only to wither away?

What if we exist, only to not exist?