I'm sitting outside

all alone.

Listening to music,

observing passerbys

and bearing cold winds

just to kill time.

The wind that's going

25 miles per hour in the 45 degree air

makes me realize how thin my shirt is.

I'm hungry

on account of having nothing more than a granola bar today.

My stomach writhes from frustration.

You'll get some dinner soon, my dear.

People wearing designer clothing sharply contrast from me,

for I wear hand-me-downs

and shoes holier than the church behind me.

The sky is puffy and grey

with heavy clouds that are ready

to dump their secrets down on us.

In the middle of the heavy atmospheric lawn

there is a small piece of sun.

Maybe God wants me to know

there's hope even when there seems like none.

Or maybe I'm being over-analytical 

because that mindset helps me get through

my book for school, Catch-22,

and my brain is stuck.

Or maybe it's all based on your interpretation 

and none of this even matters.

Maybe.

That's a depressing way to think, 

but you can't worry about what's depressing or not-

you have to worry about what's real 

or else you won't get anywhere.