It is raining again, and one drop
is sighing as it glides down from the dusky heavens,
all crystals and mirrors, it reflects the buildings and bustling people, reflecting—
about time someone noticed the grime—
you walk with your head down.

A/N: I really struggled with this one. It is really dear to me, and probably one of my most in-depth short poems. Like most of my more recent poems, it isn't exactly about what it's about. :-)If anyone can think of a good title, I beg you to tell me. Thanks for reading!