• poetryforlifeforever


Sometimes when the rain

decides to share

its pain,

i lay on my bed and listen

the raindrops,

they're not dancing,

it's as if they're writing

a story for us to listen

stories of men and animals

from ancient times

i hear stories of children

on streets

faces soiled from dirt

their skeletons stronger than their flesh

'cause they have not eaten

like hungry vultures

without laughter,

steel eyes

i hear stories of men and women

in places that should not be

sounds of forbidden pleasure

that darkens souls

and pierce the flesh,

glasses of wine broken

bread uneaten

i hear men in high places

women in low places


but driven

by insanity to grasp


like a merry-go-round

what lurks in men's hearts

those raindrops can tell

they sometimes are harsh

like the pounding of a hammer

on nails

but like the wind

so soft you can only

feel your hair brushed

is it only me that hear

these stories

perhaps these raindrops

are my portion

to gather

to feel

rain's pain

of who we are

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