I saw him cry today. 

(His face is beautiful, like a statue. It's the firework of colours on the horizon when the sun descends. It's the flawless, undisturbed sheet of snow that hugs the ground in winter.)

(I want to step in it)

He was crying today.

(If someone saw me, would I be the moon or the sun?)

He looked ugly.

Ugly.

I wished he wasn't crying. 

I don't want to look at him when his face scrunches up, and his eyes go puffy and red, and his mouth trembles, and his voice stutters and he tries to wipe his tears with his sleeve.

(He's supposed to be the all-powerful thunder. Lightning splitting his face, the river in his mouth turning his whole tongue black. Blacker than tar)

He reminded me of those animals.

The ones they use as lab subjects.

Rats.

Rabbits.

Mice.

I guess that's not nice.