The moonlit skies light up the forest that is my mental state
Always moving the wind through the trees like the sea in a hurricane spraying water into the lake of my mental forest that I have the deed to.
Raindrops fall into my minds stream moving through the weeds and depths of its ever flowing path that leads to my subconscious
You see
The raindrops falling are the tears of atrophy that decay this streams will
And as these drops form a raging storm this stream gets faster trying to ignore them like the stop signs in my headlights and I just keep driving faster
Until I drive right back to where I started and deal with the rain all over again
See my grandmother always told me lighting can't crack my will but lately a pen drop could shatter it.