Living life, another day wasted.
Another day in hell.
Another day screaming with pain.
Another day, blood is lost.
Another day, the rain storms with its power,
As my tears silently wail,
Making a symphony rhythm with the rain.
Funny, isn't it?
Life is somehow related to the rain.
There's a season for sun and a season for rain.
A season for joy and a season for tears.
That's funny, the irony of it.
But could it all change?
Can't we have the sun alone?
No, life doesn't work like that.
Apparently anyways.
It's just another regular day.
Normal, you can call it.
Another day wasted.
Another day wasting the now toxic air we breathe.
Another day tears fall, streaming like the rivers and so on.
Another day the storm came.
Another day dreams are shattered.
YOU ARE READING
Eunoia • Book One
Poetrycurrently - completed. ❝ 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ❞ Book One of Eunoia (Beautiful Thinking). A book with words dipped in emotions of a young soul. A book of different genres of poems and so on, but it's also just an...
