I had never
insulted you
you are deserving
of the trutha beautiful
magical being
why are others
bad at treating?everyone has
has been given
a little umbrella
uniquely chosenonly few
have been given colors
nobody cared
about looks of othersmy umbrella
had always been loved
I loved rain too
but my umbrella served goodmy friends complained
about their umbrella
of its form and size
of its length and colormine was ugly
uglier then theirs
but when it came to love
only those ones were sparedthey hated my umbrella
judged it for me
but I knew my umbrella
was not emptythey hated all umbrellas
only liked those
that people made themselves
in theater-showsin the rain alone
I hugged my umbrella
while others didn't know better
then get soaked in dysmorthia
YOU ARE READING
Talking heart
PoetryTransferring my thoughts in form of poetry. To understand myself, probably, maybe.