Of Now

A cloudy sky marked with the stench of humanity hangs overheads.

It starts with droplets.

"Damned rain." Someone on the street, mutters. 

As if in spite, the rain pours down harder, everyone not under a roof is drenched. 

Open umbrellas and raincoats provides meager protection. 

It's not long till the addition of the wind comes to sweep everything away. 

Be it purses, ruined umbrellas, and flying hair; it's all so beautifully mad. 

If this had been a natural diaster, people would run or freeze. 

The glaring lights in the cities are like mocking smiles. 

It shines even in the face of irritation. 

I clasp my hands together in a prayer.

As the rain fall on me, I whisper,
"It won't be much longer." 

The weather gets worse.