pitter-patter
drip-drop
listening to the rain like listening to his heartbeat;
uneven but still alive.
I didn't know his head ached or his bones ached
but I knew his eyes were red,
and empty glass bottles cut his fingers every once in a while.
pitter-patter
drip-drop
arms tired like his eyes
and his knuckles swollen blue,
Mother Nature cried for him
and he cried for him too;
alone and eyes still red,
he drank from the glass bottles
and to the sky he went.
pitter-patter,
drip-drop.
the sounds of tears
her tears
their tears
all falling for him;
the glass bottles empty
and a bullet to his throat,
a cut finger and a simple note:
"my bones,
my heart,
they ached too much,
I love you, I'm sorry
I lost my earthly crutch"
pitter-patter
drip-drop.
a flat line and a muted buzz,
code blue.
time of death: twelve fourty two.
