Pouring rain against the window,

an all too familiar scene.

The world keeps spinning outside,

keeps moving,

ignoring me in its haste,

leaving me behind.

As if my pain didn’t exist,

as if these feelings didn’t count.

They feel all too real to me.

They scourge my soul, rip my heart.

How can it be that I alone bear this reality?

That no one partakes in this agony?

Heartless rain pours,

pedestrians rush, escaping,

as I sit still,

a cold coffee before me,

the heart flooded with loneliness,

and these plaintive feelings my only friends.

Am I really this desolate?

Is the world truly so oblivious of my pain?

Do I hold any significance at all?

Do I count in this absurd dance of souls?

Is there someone out there

who longs to share?

Perhaps another lonely soul

peering through a window, somewhere…

Gazing through the hazy glass,

my world appears distinct,

intimate,

devastatingly beautiful,

entirely mine.

It pains me, yet awakens me.

In solitude, in longing, in rain, in pain,

beauty reveals itself.

Through the soaked window

distorting the scene,

I find myself in all of them.

Finally, I realize.