Caring is a choice, right? My brain suffocates in this thought. I watch everyone around me take comfort in their blank stares and wonder when they became so numb. Where’s the line between a beautiful and ruined world? I watch the rainwater flood the curb- begging to free itself into some sort of abyss where it can wash away in peace. Streetlights piercing the water’s reflection like it’s setting a stage for the finale. I watch it calmly. I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen this many times. I’ve put my palms against tears from the sky and wondered if it could heal me. I mean, what if the world actually flooded with tears in mourning of our shortcomings? I think we’d all try and do better, or some of us would just drown. I guess the flowers pay for these sins- rotting roots. Softening stems. Their necks hanging towards the earth for their final bow. I’m not sure why they can’t live forever, but I guess that’s the point of a season ending. Or beginning. Whatever you choose. I just wish people would recognize the rainwater for what it is. For what we aren’t. For the sake of caring. -AMT©️