The sky is bruised, a heavy, sightless gray,
That weeps in silence o’er the cobblestone.
It drinks the light and steals the heat of day,
To leave us shivering, naked, and alone.
You call it mercy—this relentless fall—
This silver shroud that wraps the world in sleep,
But I can hear the hollow, rhythmic call
Of secrets that the rising waters keep.
We are but vessels cracked by ancient thirst,
Who pray for storms to fill our empty wells,
Until the clouds in jagged anger burst
And ring the iron toll of funeral bells.
I stand beneath the torrent, drenching skin,
To wash away the girl I might have been.
--- [ 2 2 2 ]
Apr 17
Apr 17, 2026 at 12:00 AM UTC
The sky is bruised, a heavy, sightless gray,
That weeps in silence o’er the cobblestone.
It drinks the light and steals the heat of day,
To leave us shivering, naked, and alone.
You call it mercy—this relentless fall—
This silver shroud that wraps the world in sleep,
But I can hear the hollow, rhythmic call
Of secrets that the rising waters keep.
We are but vessels cracked by ancient thirst,
Who pray for storms to fill our empty wells,
Until the clouds in jagged anger burst
And ring the iron toll of funeral bells.
I stand beneath the torrent, drenching skin,
To wash away the girl I might have been.
--- [ 2 2 2 ]
sorry for not posting often ill try to get back to most almost daily posts apologies
