Crazy Metaphor Story from Team Single Ladies

I forgot to post this:

The rain hits the dry streets, it fulminates the air like the smell of a fresh wound on the skin. This city is a web still spinning, and I, a fly; caught and stuck in a picture so small. My mouth birthed no conversation, just lifeless lips and rattling thoughts as a dreary silence overwhelms me and a silence leads to...nothing but crossed arms and a gaze focused on dirty shoelaces. You were a pile of cold, dirty leaves lying on my front lawn. I wonder who I am supposed to care about next.