I held my heart
as outside it began to rain,
the cry of an owl
told me the uncaring knew not change
they dupe the eyes of men,
dare I storm into their hideout and take a chance?
There is a colourable look that you wear
that maddens the eye and blows
words that follow seem dipped in
shades of red,
this saucy drumming has given me a pain in my head.
You see the problem with being the strong one
wooden hearts will never bend.
come lift me out from the cloud
this less than polite percussion and put my suffering
to an end.
Like a smoldering sun,
January services like a drum
and though the cold keeps surging through
I am embroidered with the sweet desire to live.
Photo credits: Pinterest