Pitter patter - the familiar sound of rain against your umbrella, falling, tumbling, before striking the fabric and
s
l
i
d
i
n
g
down.
It glimmers, that raindrop.
Your tears fall heavily - or do they? You've lost track of time. You can't even remember what you were upset about in the first place.
It's a funny thing, sadness - sometimes you have to try to continue being sad, because it's so utterly and completely releasing to let it all out at once with no control.
But even your own mind won't allow you to be sad forever.
It physically revolts.
Your thoughts focus on arbitrary details, the monotony of everyday life, the cracks in your bedroom ceiling, to distract you, to pull you out of the pit.
"A pit of despair."
What does the phrase even mean, love?
Helplessness?
Abandonment?
The all-encompassing effect of pure anguish?
Or is it the early grave, surrounded by the despair of others at your lack of acknowledgement?
How many different letters does that word have in it?
13.
Exactly half of the English alphabet.
Arbitrary.
The raindrop slides quickly - but some do not, love.
Some linger far too long.
Which one are you?
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Dreams
PoetryA collection of short stories, poems, and half-written ramblings. ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 dream \ ˈdrēm \ 1 : a series of thoughts, visions, or feelings that happen during sleep ~•°•°-----------------------------------《☆》 night·m...
