Falling Hard

The rain pours down, each drop a soft kiss,

a percussion of truth, in the gloom I can't miss.

People rush past, umbrellas like shields,

their hurried glances reveal all that conceals.

I stand in the storm, feeling cleansed yet worn,

as the city’s dark sighs echo tales of the torn.

Each puddle reflects not just droplets that fall,

but the weight of our hearts, the burdens we call.