Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Dec 2017
You'd melt me to a puddle,
And stomp through me in boots,
Then politely clean me up,
No wonder I was confused.

A small collection of water,
Weak and backless with no voice,
Stomped through, walked on,
I forgot I had a choice.

Once a passive puddle,
But now I am the rain,
Do you know what rain erases?
The flame.

No more power over me,
I'll choose when I fall,
And by fall I mean pour,
And by pour I mean stand tall.
Breanna Stockham
Written by
Breanna Stockham  Ohio
(Ohio)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems