I go out holding my violent blue envelopes
I'm numb to the water pouring down
on my dark blue umbrella I thought would mean something
you watch your steps;
on my head, how many times have you told me you hated puddles?
As you wonder what they'll do
with the massive overflow of drops on the streets
I'm moved backwards, you walk straight ahead;
we move towards Monday and beyond
He pretends he knows some words
I silently promise life will treat him nicely.
I'll be back in 10.
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