A dewdrop of rain falls gracefully out of a violin note.
Off the bow of the saddest song.
Rolling down from the airs echoing breath.
It crashes upon deep streets of black.
Wounded it rests on bits of rigid rock.
Seeping slowly and delicately inside the crakes.
Burrowing itself beneath the solid ground.
Secreting from all of the luster and blare.
The bass from up above haunts the darkness.
Shutting out every beat and stroke of misery.
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Recollection of the deep yawn of the early day-
Strikes a thought of the pouncing wolf.
With its claws of steal and fangs of ice.
Hungry for transparency and cherry red blood.
Thrashing and pulling at the drop of rain.
Tormenting screams call out in whispered squeals.
The wolfs wet tongue licks off the face of purity.
At glance a sneer touches the sodden cheeks of fright.
A clenched stare freezes over the droplets shadow.
Pail it becomes and motionless it lays.
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The vicious wolf scampers into the murky dusk.
Abandoned, the quivering puddle lays in aborted blood.
Trickling into wetness, red turns to clear supple pink.
Weeping and prying out every reason not to drown-
A song plays capturing its soul, pulling it away.
Draining all emotion, all thought, and all memory.
Lifelessly dangling up into the atmosphere.
Melodies of sorrow sing subtly among the frailty.
This imagery of horror will last forever.
A dewdrop of rain falls gracefully on a violin note.

 
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