Cliche-Cliche

A dark and stormy night
The streets were dark,
as this wet clear apocalypse held it's regime on our hat baring heads.
As we walked through oceanic puddles,
knee deep in cold pits of sorrow,
boxes with engines,
soared past and sent monsoons of the filthy element directly into our brains,
light poles and fire hydrants glistening,
with the torrential downpour worst of the decade,
precipitation mounts more than anticipation,
the bright new day around the corner,
as the day is darkest before the dawn.