Staring at this broken face, eroded from frequent streams. Untouched by human hands, but rather wiped with angel wings.
Colorful skies now faded, replaced with walls of apathy. But soon knocked down with once more, by the strength of self consciousy.
The face glances down in pain, who had done this dreadful deed? Who would cause such torment, and leave this face to bleed?
Surely a name must come, or another face to blame. But realization shakes pointed fingers, for only you can make the clouds rain.