You're a raging storm.
Gloomy, ominous, cold, grey.
Yet you're blind to your effects; the rejuvenated rivers, luscious grasses, quenched foliage.
I sit outside in thunderstorms now as they remind me of you.
The world needs rain just as much as sunshine.
How many more metaphors of my love do you need?
YOU ARE READING
Suicide Sky (SS 1)
PoetryTRIGGER WARNING emotional exhibitionism; raw, unfortunate honesty. non-fiction. includes songs and significant lyrics. this is probably shit.
