A mind as dry as a desert
Subsisting through a continuous drought
An empty flow of ideas
A rusted, broken creative spout
Everything is slowly decaying
Much like the hope withering away
Similar to that of a cherry blossom
Too dehydrated to stay
Eyes never experiencing tears
Not a single one
As if the emotion never flooded
As if the feeling was done
A century without a drop of water
As if I were a dusty old window pane
Until one day the clouds appeared
And finally, down fell the rain
