the thirteen year old detective

tears flow down pavement

the world weeps for the unsung

whose home isn't here

rain plays detective

for the lost who are weeping

for lemon soda

for arms that hug back

for rocking chairs and snowballs

for the lie of hope

when you turn thirteen

grappling with all this life

no one will say why

when or how or who

you simply have you move on

even as you weep

the humanity

you have it better and worse

than your mind believes

if you never think

that you are going insane

rain will never find you