I sit inside my window pane
to keep away the pouring rain,
and laugh at all the little drops
running down like silly props
pretending all is beautifully sad
and nothing’s ever really bad.
All those tiny, winding trails
tell separate sad, but happy, tales.
And in the end, they all turn good
and the rain heals hurts, just as it should.
But life’s not like those drops of rain.
The world’s not like that window pane.
Some hurts don’t heal.
Sad stories are real.
The rain won’t cleanse and erase the pain
and many people still bear their shame.
But people like me, we prefer to hide
tucked in our houses, safely inside,
and watch the rain on the window pane
and wish the world was just the same.
