Memory Fragments: Probity

Rainy Days

Each cloud, an angel sent to cry. Each day, a rainy requiem of yesterday's alibi
It is not I, but a muddy puddle of questions that I cannot wonder to the sky
For it is forbidden to my pry. My death is a mysterious goodbye. A fluid lie
And thus these rainy days of my. Were the clouds mystify the truth that I deny

I know the truth. I know my life's fruit. That is why my case is but water's moot
I am clean but drenched. Absolved and quenched. Slippery and unclenched
How would the skies know? If their vision is dilute, their droplets hit me acute
And thus I sent one more cry. May the rain never stop, for judgement is entrenched

I do this out of pity. Out off of mercy's anger, calm and strong, I decide the weather
It shall be a rainy day once again. A merciful torrent shall wash away my fault and worry
A slave to the current I drift through. May it never dry, for I would be lost altogether
Downtrodden, I watch the clouds and give them shape. I drift as the sky becomes blurry

It is not I, myself, that I hide from? Behind the clouds, a waterfall seeps through them
I am not ready to cry today. But rainy it must be every day. One more cloud, one more
So I send another alibi. Another truth to fly off into what the skies have now become
Yesterday was not rainy. How could it have been? It was but my eyes sunk in the moor

I cannot see, yet I can still cry. May my tears reflect unto the skies what I feel and kill
The more it rains, the more certain I become. May the sky judge me, for I cry above it
Beneath me, the clouds I have sent. What is up and down? When you remain still
I begin to drown in my own pity. Unable to cry a throne of clouds, I cannot rest nor sit

I once was the king of the skies. But a world of rain I befell, and so I am held guilty
No alibi can save me now, for I have cried my last cloud of shroud. No more pity
My act, watered down by my own tears. Blurry I may see, a lie has never been more stilty
I am an assassin found behind its lies. I cannot keep up with me; my own fugacity

And so, tomorrow may be sunny. A rainbow shall form from behind my clouds
I am a plant of weak roots, so I cried for my own sustenance. I felt sorry for my nature
For all I wanted to grow, always had my head in the clouds; a fool's alibi is on the crowds
Nobody helped me, so I dried them all. Now alone, I find myself buried among my crenature

My tears were nothing but salt. A harmful act to all and myself: a fool's pity on nobody's parade
So no more rain shall fall, for I salted my own life. I was a plant that grew from seeds of worry
On my last day, the sun gifted me my life's last fruit. A cloudberry that withered and decayed
I was ever so cold with myself. No warmth nor sunlight befits me. Clouds gone in a flurry