Standing at the window. Staring outside at the grey sky, looking at the rain all around. Wet cement, wet grass and a cool chilly air. The house seems so dull inside and the world outside seems so sad. I hear two guitars strumming away, such sadness, such melody. I lean against the wall and feel emotionless, thoughtless, yet at any moment I know that I can start crying. Cry for what? Maybe just for more wetness to moisten my soul, to release the hazy grey that seems to linger in me on a day like this.

No dreams left within.