I hate thinking of a title for my poems.

Walking in a daze,
thinking only of themselves.
The relentless haze never lifts
This haze, in fact, only thickens with age.

Running blindly through the years;
doing only what they're told.
Never reaching for more.
Not caring what the world holds.

Open your eyes;
Find the beauty you've passed.
Fulfill your hearts,
with it's wildest desires.

Discover the meaning
Your poor souls have ached for.
Let the rain fall.
Let it pour.