The Golden Cup

there he sat, still an Restless under the muddy light post on the Slimy, Cruel hill the Dust blew in a daze and Mud spat in his face the Rain began. there he watched his home Bury away his mother, father, sister, and son fly deep into the waves the Fog sat in, and sat thick while the Wind roared in wheezing and pushing the rain kept on then came a rich, beautiful man bearing a clean red cross on his chest his smile sympathetic, but reason hollow Depression crept in, slow and quiet picked a spot and was made comfortable the Rain crashed hard but there, behind the clean blond hair over the mud, and past the dirt a smooth, white cloud beckoned. his heart, blackened and crushed. the Rain, deep and dark inside, had Stopped.