The wind and rain beat against the window, mirroring the emotional storm within him. 

But, unlike the weather, his turmoil did not expend itself. It did not disperse, and leave the sky open for the sun. 

In every moment lurked the darkness inflicted upon his mind — the rage, the sorrow, the disbelief, 

Always there, raining in the back of his mind. 

It was not depression, nor any form of diagnosable disorder, and it had never dwelt in him before, not even as a seed of despair. 

But it would not leave. 

It had once been love, but now had been altered into its inverse by cruelty, 

And that which could defeat it, disperse it forevermore, was never to be had. 

When the sun broke through and shared its warmth once more, he felt it only upon his skin, for in his mind, in his heart, it was dark and rained all the time.