“It is raining, tiny pieces of glassy mirrors, reflecting life” Gun Roswell
Rain with tiny singing Droplets
Forming, a gigantic watery puddle
As together, these tiny pieces try to huddle
Glassy droplets, sent, from the heavens above
When the rain gods decided, them upon us to shove
The mirror like and imperfect things
Reflecting life, as on the surface now, they sing
But soon, they will be devoured, into the big ocean
All of them rolling together, in one motion
Until finally, being completely sucked, into the scorched land
Thus disappearing, for good, as if it was, the whole plan
Rantings Of A Third Kind 