There he is too. Day dreaming, looking at the rain, wanting to be part of it, since when has it been this way. Rain, the rain that won't go. The rain drops come and come, and can do what they want. If he was a rain drop he could change, be someone else, and not be, who he is, a wimp, a miserable boy....
Yes if he was a rain drop he could each time live a new life. This time he could part of a drizzle, part of a heavy rain, or just be one of those lonely water drops that appear after the rain, that show up late for the big event. Yes, he imagined, he so desperately sought to be.
Why are things this way?
He felt the bump on his head. Them, they had thrown a rock at him, they were aiming for his face, but they hit him in the head. Off they went laughing.
Will get you next time piggy!
And he lay there on the ground, tasting the mud while the rain not caring about his troubles continue on and on with more force. The rain, he felt the cold splashes that hit him as he went home.
And mom is so busy to notice.
So he went up to his room, to that other room in which no one knew his pains, except this room, were he bitterly cried while his mom cooked dinner. But his mom could not hear his sobs, since the rain was selfish and only cared about letting them know about its presence, so it begin to rain more harder and those tears that fell from his eyes vanish instantly because they knew that only the rain was allowed to be known..
