Looks like rain
The clouds gather in a heaping grey mess
They shadow my green
They hide my blue
And they destroy my white
They gather to spite me
They gather to shove me into black
Into darkness
Their cacophonous rage threatens to spill over and burn my insides
Acid like liquid silver torching my hair and melting my limbs
It leaves in its wake a path too cliche for death
A sea of spoil and disfiguration
A disgrace to the population
Are we to be remembered for our stupid stories of conquer?
Our history of desolate minds?
We started this.
This abundant supply of search and destroy.
Looks like rain.
What will it drop this time?
The bodies of our wronged?
Or the minds of our wise?
//when you finally like something you write again
