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the weather
From time to time, this everlasting thought crosses my mind: What form of rain, am I most of?
Am I a thunderstorm, with every word I speak, I speak with electricity, and then a sudden boom of hatred,
Am I hail, every word being shot down at everyone inferior to me,
Am I snow, cold to everyone around me, and disappearing into their now wet hands when touched,
Am I ice, frozen in time, until I’m melted, then stomped on as a wet puddle
Am I a dark cloud, bottling up every possible emotion, until it all bursts out as rain,
Am I a fluffy white cloud, always smiling and being the best version of myself,
Or am I, just an empty sky? With nothing but a scorching hell-like sun, or a cratered moon.
Even with a desolate overarching heaven, it all turns out tragically dark in the end.
And there's inevitably nothing I can do about it, cause not once was I ever able to control the weather
© All Rights Reserved
Am I a thunderstorm, with every word I speak, I speak with electricity, and then a sudden boom of hatred,
Am I hail, every word being shot down at everyone inferior to me,
Am I snow, cold to everyone around me, and disappearing into their now wet hands when touched,
Am I ice, frozen in time, until I’m melted, then stomped on as a wet puddle
Am I a dark cloud, bottling up every possible emotion, until it all bursts out as rain,
Am I a fluffy white cloud, always smiling and being the best version of myself,
Or am I, just an empty sky? With nothing but a scorching hell-like sun, or a cratered moon.
Even with a desolate overarching heaven, it all turns out tragically dark in the end.
And there's inevitably nothing I can do about it, cause not once was I ever able to control the weather
© All Rights Reserved
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