Afar from me, 
Outside the window, 
There was a weeping willow—
Drooping in despair as the gray clouds poured down its devastation. 
Regrets then surged through me, 
Thundering in my head which I wailed underneath my sheets. 

For the torture to stop,
I screamed out the pain in sync together with the rain drops that splattered. 
It's a curse. 
The fate's a curse. 
To me, to us. 

God is never wrong,
But I worked my life false. 
I had hoped I'd be strong,
To run against the gush of the wind, and forget that I'd once lost. 
—Jane l.