Pitter-patter...
Drops slide down the glass window,
until they resemble streams of tears marking a cheek...
my cheek.

The rain pitter-patters outside,
Like the frogs in my throat.
The rain,
my tears.
The grey clouds,
my heart.

How we resemble each other so well.
The thunder,
the ache in my chest.
The lightning,
The pain etched onto my...