Puddles after rain.
Or maybe I’m insane.
Storm clouds lightning cracks.
Sounds like breaking backs.
Flooding in the city.
No longer is there apricity.
Thunder drums in the sky.
The sound makes children cry.
Earthquakes crumble the planet.
Turn it to a broken cup, that’s made of granite.
Something’s wrong, the sky is clear.
Maybe it’s me, as I’m painted with fear.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 10:02 PM UTC
Puddles after rain.
Or maybe I’m insane.
Storm clouds lightning cracks.
Sounds like breaking backs.
Flooding in the city.
No longer is there apricity.
Thunder drums in the sky.
The sound makes children cry.
Earthquakes crumble the planet.
Turn it to a broken cup, that’s made of granite.
Something’s wrong, the sky is clear.
Maybe it’s me, as I’m painted with fear.