My words fell on deaf ears. I’m the tree that fell in the middle of a crowed street that no one sees or hears. Perhaps I should become a summer storm that suddenly appears without warning? Perhaps the million of pieces of me pouring onto you all at once will finally cause you to acknowledge my presence?
Or will you simply erect your umbrella and watch me fall to your waist side, as the remnants of me pool on the curb waiting its turn to become part of the tiny river that is hurtling towards the gutter?