People say she's happy
Decked in shades of grey
With heavy clouds
Screaming thunder,
She makes things alive ,
We sing songs about her ,
Dance , and write poetries
When she screams ,
We are hopeful towards the sky ,
I've always denied ,
What the people say ,
And all the happy texts ,
They create by ,
when nature screams in agony ,
Burdened by our sins,
And we dance and celebrate,
When she rains , why?
It's been years , since I drenched in rain ,
As a kid I was happy ,
But now I realise,
So I shared my pain with her ,
screamed with her in agony ,
I sat silent under the sky ,
I sat with her , today as she cried .
-ss
YOU ARE READING
Unsaid
PoetryIt was painfully worded , And beautifully read , The things that were written, Were those never said.
