I read somewhere that people
mix blues in black to make it darker
and sometimes it'd get so profound
I'd count mintue by minute until
moon dies
to make sense out of
the ceiling that had faded into the night
But when you are lost beside
your own weight, you have no where to be
The air is light from a song somebody
will write one day, not in our todays
And oh to play a tune until
clots come bleeding on the surface
YOU ARE READING
The Language of Rain
Poetry[TW :- CRINGE] Here, burns the bonfire of my heart. this is a random collection of poems and thoughts.
