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Powdered water

by Aaron Howard

Streets of pain, Street of pity.
Rain over this begotten city.
Rain, ruling the colors of night.
Making old into the new night light.
Spreading the colors for miles.
Bringing those internal smiles.
I might only be happy when it rains.
When it washes away all those growing pains.
Depression, depravity lingers
and the steering wheel hold up my fingers.
As I drive over this rain covered land.
Feeling the cold rain collide with my hand.

06/17/1999

Posted on 12/16/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard

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