She couldn't do much in this world,
at least not much without being controlled.
Or taught to do it differently.
She would often find herself searching,
searching for something to be free doing.
When anything and everything you do is changed,
damaged,
or corrected, there's not much you can do.
But when she looks out at the rain
she feels that sense of freedom.
When she stands under the small droplets,
letting them fall onto her palms and face,
she understands what it feels to be free.
The rain helps her to feel the feeling she'd been so longing of.
Those storms, they are her escape.
They are her freedom.
YOU ARE READING
Something Immortal
RandomJust a bunch of random poetry i wrote. hopefully it's not too bad. it's just about my life and how i'm feeling. this is a way i like to cope with shit so hope you enjoy my coping mechanism as much as i do.
