It's raining so much in my room
Gotta pick the flowers with my own broom.
They all died through the droughts
All because of my deepest doubts
And now what I hear are no sounds.
My lungs can't scream no more louds
But, I stay up waiting for the clouds
The ones with rainbows so I can be found.
- August 17, 2019
(Edited: March 24, 2021)
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Poetry
PoetryA poetry book containing poems written between 2018-2020. The poems were originally written and used by me as Instagram captions for my turtle's account, @maxxloniatheturtle.
