Stainless Steel

The Reason
A boulder rolled into this town and we all knew it had spiralled down. It was stone hard, hard rock breathing. Still, cold, grey - it was here. There were scientists asking what could have been the reason, the cause of this bulging thing. The reason, so important, moreso than the problem. Trees falling in woods, tears sprinting down faces - the reason, so important, moreso than the rock. The scientists sat and the scientists asked but the Village Men came with sickels and hooks, hit, hitting the stone till it fell to pieces, scattered far and wide: beach sand. Now girls in bikinis and typical boys lounge oblivious and happy (heehee! heehee!). The reason, so important, moreso than the rock, but the reason means nothing when it is breathing over us, glaring at us, still amongst screaming children. when the tears are sprinting down my spine, the reason means nothing but core, core, rotting apple core and the rock is breathing. I am leaving. The scientists cover the rock in black and busy themselves with igneous & sedimentary stones. "Reason, sweet reason, something we can fix!" But scars stay on skin even after you're dead.

I honestly just feel like shit.