Needles

Blood drops like rain

Peering down from bird's eye view while simultaneously the other half staring up endlessly to the abyss sky as pine needles fall as a waterless dense rain. Pricking the eyes if one dares not to look away. Piercing the skin, blood stains spot strangers passing by, strangers like ghosts, only to be seen in this instant, intersected with only a glimpse, another life entangled for only a second with uncountable more just the same until standing alone, the smell of metallic iron slowly fills the lungs, splintered skin, ruby red blood replaces what would have been drops of rain.