Oct 4, 2021
I only write when it rains.
PS. It’s not raining when this is written.
I can’t write when it’s sunny
When everything’s bright
It’s burning my head
Maybe there’s something
A matter with the day
I can’t think straight
Not even a single sentence
Maybe there’s something
A matter with me
When all smiles under the sun
Make me but ill at ease
Does the gloom invites me in
or do I invite the gloom in
Do you ever wonder
Why it ever rains in the
Summer
A monologue
Of a writer’s block
A bitter, sad little soul
Stubborn as a brick
Cranky as the weather
Yet who pulls through
In the darkest of moments
In the deep silence of night
Alone and wandering
A rush of words burst, flowing
Its time gathering
Until the sun rises
Until the next day comes
It will be here without sleep
Biding these last moments
Before it is laid to rest, unmoved
Wondering if night will return
It has all day to yearn
//
When it rains during the day
I think I saw
A glimpse of it
Sprouting from its slumber
A little dazed but still awake
A gentle breathing
Under the cloudy sun
