He swaggers through the crowd

A look of listlessness on his face

People passing by are ignorant, 

The stain on his jacket miniscule

He grimaces holding his left hand in his right

Someone turns, noticing, yet walking away

Not caring enough to stop and inquire

He continues to walk

The stain on his jacket larger now

He turns down a side street

He picks up his pace, gradually

Now frantically running to the river

People curse at him as he pushes them aside

Their anger clouding their brains

Blocking the mental register of the large stain

The stain is soaking his jacket

Making it so heavy and burdensome

Yet he keeps it on

He reaches the river, falling on his knees

He gazes towards the river

Everything is serene, unbothered

He wondered if he could be a part of this senerity in his final moments

So he lifted himself from the ground and clutched his chest

Feeling the wetness of his jacket

And he became one with the river

Staining it's surface red