Reflections.

I am an insignificant puddle, just like all the others, so why must you jump in me? Those are my brains, my mind, my soul you're splattering on the pavement. Think you that destroying everything I have left is a game? Rain doesn't replenish my love or my trust. That's my innocence drying on your pant-leg.

And that, there, on the toe of your shoe, is that my hope?

Ah. I see now. This isn't a game to you. This is a malicious attack on everything I hold dear to me. That's why you keep coming back to destroy me yourself. You want to witness my final ruin.
Your cheerful rubber boots will betray no sign of murder to anyone. They'll remain the same bright color as always before. And there, running down the side, is my passion. It's magnifying the yellow, you know.

The pain will never stop will it? All the things you robbed me off, all the bleeding wounds, those will never heal, will they? They'll never have a scab, and no ointment will ease the ache of their loss. No transplants can be made, I'll always be without.
Alone.
Miserable.

Perhaps that's why you're so cruel. Maybe you lost it all long ago and you can never be content until you suck everything out of everyone else.
And then, so, this is not a malicious attack to you. It is only a game after all, a game that you live for. A game that keeps your mind off the gaping holes in your heart. A game that makes you laugh to interrupt the awesome sorrow of it.
A game of contempt.
And finally, a tiny droplet goes flying, amplifying the sun and it's yellowness, the color that keeps us alive in this wretched world. Then, plop! the tear lands, and gone is my willingness to live. Goal, you've won the game. I am still living, yet I have no joy, no talent. I have nothing.
Just like you.