(this was written during a long separation from J, hence the less-than-cheery tone)
This world is weeping.
Trees bend their branches to the grass,
Tears streaming from their leafy fingertips,
And silent blades drip sorrow to the ground
Steeples coldly reaching,
Tips piercing clouds to catch their tears.
Griefs blending darkly stain the standing walls,
In silent testimony streaking down.
A girl sits watching.
Rain pours down weeping windowsills,
Grief driving torrents down the broken panes.
She sees the world through sadness, somewhat bent.