White, black, yellow, red or green it is always the same scene. Nimbostratus Rain, cloaking the tears of a battered soul. Sun, forces me, to maintain control. Justice and retribution ring in my ear, though all that surrounds me, is simmering fear. Bullets of rage, still the gun's final glory.
Reporters converge finally wanting a story.
Little they care for the cause of distress, or the anguish of longing for redress. Causes of strife and distress, elude all. Standing between us, an enormous wall. I need more, than a small bowl of pity. Imploring the heavens to indulge my desire I beg for water to douse my soul's fire.