MoonlightOrchids

I can hear the drip, drip of the rain all around me, Can see it streaming through the mud like     a mother crying for her lost baby. I often think that the torrenting rain     is what keeps me from hearing the     wailing and the screaming     of everyone who cries on this sole day Whether they be tears of sadness or tears     of anger who cannot be stopped     until revenge is adequately achieved. Though then sometimes I wonder if     the pouring of the rain is not something     beyond sadness. The rivers gliding through your soul     and taking with it the mad     fury and despair And leaving behind only a tranquil     pool of e

love is a feather landing lightly on your shoulders unaware you continue on glances from others hardly noticed disregarded subtle differences in personality and thoughts perceived you begin to ask can anyone see what is not the same concealed destination reached mirror shows feather to be kept forever however sometimes the feather floats away unseen alone