Untitled
The pitter and the patter,
what more can it do
except worsen the pain
from the letter...
The only constancy left
is the rhythm of the rain.
No longer is there a reason
for the sky to not cry in pain
The morn will continue
and it will never end,
without hope or dream,
only left to pray at the pew.
Time has ceased.
The pain has not eased.
There is no more hope now.
I hope you are now appeased
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A rain-inspired poem I've written.
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