when the sun goes down
her true colors
shine like stars.
she is a cruel woman, claiming the state is to blame.
the sun returns again, she's back to normal.
everyone else is left confused
wondering if when the rain comes
she will explode again.
help me predict her actions, weatherman.
YOU ARE READING
Conversations With Myself
PoetryWhat is it that I think? Does it even matter? I leave a lot of things unsaid, unheard, and well.. Here's all the things I wish someone would've and could've heard me say.
