Is it raining because its lonely?
Or the rain just a timely cry?
Of times worth holding on to
To the times of solemn sighs
The soft whispers of serendipity
Combing softly above your head
Forever trapped in a nostalgic entity
Of meaningless poetry and dread
And it grows under my skin
Potruding slowly into my eyes
The sound of melancholic screams
And the sight of nonchalant skies