Drip Drops Won’t Beckon This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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     Everyone writes poems when it rains,
So they say.
The soaking bulbs of glass,
The acid-spitting drips.
It must inspire when a cloud cries down
To the earth,
Pouting and bawling like a baby
In shock after falling into gravel.
Pens scratch brilliantly when others suffer.
No exception for Mother Nature.
Her wet, emerald eyes
Are fair game.
I spend no time doodling
When the sky bursts
To pieces.
No solace comes
In the catharsis of post-rain.
No,
My chest doesn’t heave in relief,
And I pay no mind to the muddy overcast.
Only by chance does it rain when I write.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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Lily">This teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Jan. 16 at 11:17 pm
i love this so much!
 
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