Raindrops February, 2020
Flowers
bloom in the liquid sunshine.
I
want everything that is not mine.
Rainbows
ripping apart fluffy clouds.
I
wander within the zombie crowds.
Birds
happy to circle far overhead.
I
wonder often why Im not yet dead.
Trees
blossom as itchy winds blow.
I
want you to stay, it is I who must go.
Grass
underfoot cuts like a knife.
I
want happiness, not this messed up life.
I was asked “How dark of a poem can you make?”
Absence
is my answer.
Dark
are the days, with no hope in sight.
Long
are the hours, alone every night.
Black
is my mood, absent of light.
Cold
my heart, bathed in fright.
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