Between the trees, I hear your
Voice, the weather matches my mood
an overcast sky for an overcast mind.
I look up for the sun, but it's not there.
Only darkness falling upon the moistened
leaves. The raindrops drip off the sides
of the leaves, and into my hair.
This is a really bad poem and I don't
like it at all. I have a juicebox
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment