I hear it tap against the glass
Already weeting the grass
Knowing I feel free watching
And ready for catching
Something mysterious that comes from the rain
That defines my miserable pain.
Seeing the flowers going down,
I can already feel in my lungs, their gonna drown
They can't feel it but I see it
The paper from my books knit
The tears in my eyes are falling
And I hear the voice calling
It tells me to run
Just to do it for the fun
But my anxienty is chasing me
Trying to break it constantly
The feeling I get when I see your eyes
They connect with mine
I see your prettiest cries
And the things you're really tryin'
YOU ARE READING
Drunk under a Streetlight | poetry
Poetrypoetry /ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
