The Tryanny of Enoughs

I think I'm in love with the sad images.
It is probably raining outside, or just stopped raining and water leaking from the ceiling and falling into an old saucepan, and that cold sound of it dripping and how the sound becomes louder and louder when you solely focus on it. And the weeds, such weak things compared to a cemented wall but they still grow through the cement... Wonderful metaphors. And these are feeding my senses, I feel like I can actually hear the water dripping. It is sad how so many people will be able to relate to these "not enough" questions, I hope one day you no longer have to ask yourself these.

This poem feels like winter, I love it! ^-^