art
Poetry and art go hand in hand; in fact, a poem is just art in the written form.
What the Rain Told Me
Emotional fragmentation I want to talk about the rain. I do not know what has happened to me, why I opened my note and began to do this, to manifest in order to write about raining. It must be a rainy day. It was cloudy when I got up earlier although I appeared happy as well. When it cries it tears up the sky. I hear each and every drop drop. All of them were stories, a fact, a betrayal, a sorrow, existing in a world in which the clouds grow blacker every time it has seen something. I hear it grumble, and cry, though screaming. Thunder , A bulletproof song a blur in your head is seen. A world is revealed in the scene, a situation of a drummer who was making me nod my head, and listen to a plan. I would hope we might live without so real and too seen a dream. Watch brothers and sisters drink water, praise God on that branch of life. A group of idiots has to be killed or cursed with internal pain. The light penetrates the heart, and in between there are roses. To the beat and the movement, a stream in the ground soon moulds the figure of the new living. it must be a leaf, a loop.
By LUCCIAN LAYTH2 months ago in Poets
