Jun 13
The rain
Clouds pull in, the sky is grey.
Shrouding any feeling that cannot stay.
Every day, I prepare for rain,
but it never comes, so I complain
to the mirror in my room;
I tell it all, I wouldn't tell a tomb.
Like, how my days turn out blue
from all the sleepless nights I accrue.
On the day the skies finally cried,
I forgot my umbrella inside.
Drenched, the feeling comes back to me.
The one I thought I could flee,
frigidness flows through my veins
to my heart and to my brain.
As I lay in a puddle,
my mind becomes muddled
till a stranger pulls me out.
