Can you write a poem?

It was like following the hands of the rain, where we could've played outside and had fun there.

I've seen it all. Paler bloodied hands touching my face to cry out for my one bit of attention as I was tempted to join the unfortunate souls of those who play in the rain.

Two very gifted hands, one of nothing and one of everything that come together to form something like a mother's touch. Peering eyes and ripped up shreds of the bodies of the rain children scatter the earthly plane and send their evergreen tears from the sky to take me too.

I suppose this is what i was to receive after I called his name silly isn't it..? The boy got upset at me. Maybe we are the same person after all? The boy who can't do anything but chooses to do everything, the boy who lives in pure bliss. And the boy who can do everything but chooses to rot in his own body prison, the boy who is hurt.

Would you rather the boy chew on his tongue and choke on his words? He's one with the state of miserable euphoria and he can do as you desire if you so choose to whisper the words.