And when her gaze
rakes across
the crooked beds
of the sky.
She huffs a small
crooked breath
and allows herself
to cry.
For the drizzle and plunder
of the storm and thunder
is a blissful,
dribbling disguise.
She stands stark cold
her tears all gone
hidden under the rains
and the skies.
YOU ARE READING
She is a Happy Person.
PoetryAn ironic set of poems compared to the title. Please vote and do let me know how they are :3 Highest Rating ever gotten #138 in poetry 18/9/15
