The skies cry
patting my wounded skin with every drop—
washing my writhed eyes
hiding my ache
Hands move steadily
taking out my umbrella like it's my only shelter
As light As the raindrops were,
the little puddles reflected my heavy soul.
The umbrella she once held;
couldn't cover her own tears.
- Moza
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 8:46 PM UTC
The skies cry
patting my wounded skin with every drop—
washing my writhed eyes
hiding my ache
Hands move steadily
taking out my umbrella like it's my only shelter
As light As the raindrops were,
the little puddles reflected my heavy soul.
The umbrella she once held;
couldn't cover her own tears.
- Moza
I woke up to a rainy day, and I got the inspiration to pour my heart out.
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