Tuesday, 8 April 2014

Part IX

Whether rain or sun
A voice could always be heard
On the outskirts of the station
Humming almost unseen
A name you didn’t know

Tapping away increasingly
When-ever the rain stopped
Almost like it had finished
Crying enough

Colouring your vision
Making the rain on the tram
Look like blood
All the way home

Instead of tears.

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