Is it raining again? My feet are wet, my hands trembling under the drops of crystal; crashing down onto the cement. It's cold under my feet, lonely breaths are my only company.
Is it raining again? Please answer me, I can't bare your silence anymore. The lights are pretty when they flash above me, illuminating the clouds.
It's raining again.
YOU ARE READING
humans
Poetry"Being human means constantly trying to find the light." -Kevin Kantor & Sienna Burnett "Phases" (poetry written in form of journal entries)
