My rain isn't gentle-
It's clamorous, merciless as a sword without a handle.
Your air isn't cleansing-
It's a disaster disguised as a gift.
Birds commit suicide before it kills them.
What we share isn't infinite- in fact, it's barely holding on.
An apple desperate not to fall from a tree
because it doesn't want
The bruise to make it hideous.
YOU ARE READING
Songs for the Simple Unknown
PoetryA collection of poems about various topics including life//death//love// and the unknown. All are my own. *WARNING* mentions suicide
