The clouds cry for me,
The sky.
The rain wreaks havoc upon my dry face,
Showers bring sensation to my benumbed lips,
The hail ignites fires onto my desensitized skin,
Thunderstorms unleash music upon the ears that only hear silence.
The rain becomes the tears I shed,
The rain becomes the blood I bleed,
The wind becomes the shoulder I lean on,
The wind becomes the only hand that holds me,
Lightening turns into the spark that starts my heart beat,
And thunder becomes the only voice I scream.
The earth cries for me,
Because I don't,
I stand there as she swallows every inch of mine,
She wraps me up like a blanket in her hurricanes,
So that even her cold can become my warmth,
Even her moon can become my day light,
Even her chaos can become my peace,
My solace,
My solstice.
YOU ARE READING
My Inner Workings
PoetryWhen I can't feel, I cry When I can't cry, I scream When I can't scream, I write
