Outcast
The thumping heart pumps raging blood-rivers that reach the heated eyes and spill the scalding tears.
He glares through the window, and thunder booms as the wrath rises and sparks the lightning that snakes down onto the wet earth. He gnashes his teeth as he watches them, warm and content, while the soft, golden lamplight gleams on her smiling face as she gazes at the bastard who has usurped his home.
The wind howls and wails as he pounds on the window, but the pane only warps to the irate melody of the gale, and they pay no attention.
Angry tears fall from his eyes while the rain pours down and click-clacks on the roof. He hollers, and the hail begins to fall, dive-bombing the house. A nervous glance towards the window, but they only see the dense storm and dark night.
Still, he beats on the windowpane, and thunder roars, and his tears fall on the roof, and his electric anger flashes from the clouds.
The sky explodes, and the searing metal stabs his thumping heart, and he spirals into the void as the propellers fall apart, and the airplane breaks, and his body crumbles.
Every night, he pummels on the window, and tonight, the glass cracks with a savage shriek.
“It must have been a stone in the wind,” they shrug.
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