Depression

It pours without stopping
drenching the dirt
mud runs in riviluts
revealing the hurt

Try to be noble
pragmatic and stoic
but the rain keeps on falling
drowning this poet

And the question is why
and the answer evades
the bright light of day
by its closely drawn shades

And the damp hurts the bones
while the misery falls
on the heads of the innocent
who did nothing at all

And the girls weep with horror
and the rest curl with pain
and the sky sends its gift
of never ending rain.






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