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 Aug 2014 MariaLoves
It's raining,
A downpour of
All the little things
That are stealing
Away my sanity.
I can separate fact from fiction,
one is heaven
the other
a prison

Which is what, is in intuition,
and I'm missing it, mostly
but that's your religion
Knock Knock Jokes Aren't funny when There's nobody there.
Actually, Nothing is funny when no one's there to care.
when your sense of humor washes down the drain.
there's nothing left to feel but numbness and pain.
I'ts been an eternity since the landscape of my face has had this much rain.
My cheeks have been so dry.
I was self-taught not to cry.
I'm understanding now, why a drought was called The Great Depression.
Depression, Not a direction I want to go.
But you wouldn't know I'm there.
That's how it works, Depression.
You know, it goes so much deeper than a ****** expression.
It's not so much easy to hide it , as it is you get good at it.
But no matter how long-lived the drought,
What I would be more worried about,
Is the ground being so dry it's lost the ability to absorb the rain.
Have you ever seen it rain after a dry-spell?
the raindrops plop to the ground and swell on the surface, not soaking in.
I don't know where to begin,
They told me I'd feel better if I cried and "let it out"
But, I think they know, it  takes more than that to end a drought.

© copyrighted Nicole Ann Osborn
 Aug 2014 MariaLoves
Classics in Art, Music, Literature
live beyond temporal limits.
Touching chords when seen and heard,
on canvass, in melodies, with written words.

They can be young and fresh,
or ancient and frayed.
With messages and stories
ringing true through every Age.

They transcend places
and march boldly through time.
Still relevant,
Still beautiful,
Eternally sublime.

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