Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Unwanted, it came out of the sky. Each drop falling straight for the earth. Feels heavy upon my shoulders, as if a giant presence filled the air: everywhere I go, leaning, clinging—hanging on my back, with its grips of quicksand. Time and again, it blinds, disarming me with its painful Flash, before its booming Roar, that the beating of my heart seems to shake my vision, and my bones to creak—all out of a stupid fear; creating an earthquake insensible to others, with its epicenter at the very core of my being; while my stomach growls in resonance, giving a severe indigestion, and a vertigo so persistent as to make someone ***** his own life. And though it came down with a chilling breath, sweat unceasingly springs from my body. For the truth is—I am truly nervous, that this rain is but one of the many storms to come. And so, as the discordant melody of the city continues to lull the world I, like an infant mewling at night, remain awake, cursed to ponder never to be reconciled with peaceful Slumber.
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 8:26 AM UTC
The Rain
Unwanted, it came out of the sky. Each drop falling straight for the earth. Feels heavy upon my shoulders, as if a giant presence filled the air: everywhere I go, leaning, clinging—hanging on my back, with its grips of quicksand. Time and again, it blinds, disarming me with its painful Flash, before its booming Roar, that the beating of my heart seems to shake my vision, and my bones to creak—all out of a stupid fear; creating an earthquake insensible to others, with its epicenter at the very core of my being; while my stomach growls in resonance, giving a severe indigestion, and a vertigo so persistent as to make someone ***** his own life. And though it came down with a chilling breath, sweat unceasingly springs from my body. For the truth is—I am truly nervous, that this rain is but one of the many storms to come. And so, as the discordant melody of the city continues to lull the world I, like an infant mewling at night, remain awake, cursed to ponder never to be reconciled with peaceful Slumber.
vscasison
Written by
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 8:26 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem