All soft, sweet and scarlet, like those haematic raindrops that trace our stone and dusty streets.
It's all so silent and so overwhelming.
The faint echo of a bystanders pain; shared by a silent reaper of life.
What is all this worth?
Perhaps for a few haematic raindrops; all salty and imbued.
Tracing our faces and shaking hands.
It means the world.
