𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙤𝙪𝙡. [ПРОДЪЛЖЕНИЕ]- ONGOING.

55 The Only Thing I would Carry Myself With, Is The Light Rain.

There were things I couldn't express on my way to poetry. And I only remember the road was too long.
Dear writer, your mind scolds me , have you been sorry for me? Have you seen other sides of me
when there wasn't enough light in my poor world?

If you could be chasing me behind , why didn't you feel sorry for the things you've done , yet all the senseless matter you throw away at me ,
and my body doesn't feel right anytime I close my eyes , I've fallen down in a background where I never remembered I could be, but whatever happens I will be sitting there shortly , lying in
while I'm waiting for the spring to come .

How do people fall in love when a soul can
be soaked in its own misery, stuck in bad weather,
eats whatsoever , consumes what's left  of
that heavy laughter echoing in depths of
nothingness, and the only thing I would
carry myself with , is the light rain .