Departing umbrellas, we hope the ride was hell!
Please enjoy the rain you're ready for
that is going to wash the crevices of your ribs.
Flocks of crows sitting in a concrete abyss
with itchy stubble
and broken toes
I lost their feathers in the eye of the storm,
as angels wept snow over blue mountains
You must declare danger before you shout war
as weapons are lustful for your children
a forbidden affair has started
between the innocence and the bullets,
And lust, in the form of broken eye contact,
on your shoulder
— The End —