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Where is my rain
March 20, 2018
After every fire, sproouts a shower
But after ever fire, my anger seem but to flower
I feel the cracke
I feel the pop
But the tell me it's not there.
The fire fuels my anger.
The fire licks at it with mockery,
and they wont shut up!
Why can they not see the fire!
And why can't there be a storm soon?!
My tears burn, my ears agonise with the never of silence.
I see the clouds
But the wind is blowing...
© Mitrah A., Austin, TX
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This is a piece I wrote before I got help for my schizophrenia.