When his eyes are parched and thirsty but still pouring
When his hair feels like an universe weighing down his head.
When people makes him feel so flat and boring
When people unknowingly make him wish he was dead
When his eyebrows feel like crumbling sidewalks
When more than one dream he has buried
Then he opens up his favourite book
And out flows the multicoloured tributaries.
But all is now okay.