It’s so late

So, it’s like 3 o’ clock here, and I’m still awake. Fuck insomnia. Just wrote a poem, no clue why I wrote about rain.

drop, drop
the rain’s falling
constant on the roof
running down the drains
drop, drop
like a giant’s tears
they fall
towards the earth
drop, drop
when they reach their end
they shatter into
millions of pieces

like a mirror
thrown to ground
your visage
reflected in the ruins

drop, drop
a single tear
falls on your hand
as you reach out
drop, drop
a lonely friend
accompanied by
an army of followers
drop, drop
memories crawl up
as you listen to
the constant

like an old tape
you can hear her voice
recorded for

drop, drop
there is a new sound
coming from your chest
as a single tear
rolls from your cheeks
falling down
mixing with the water
spilled by a lonely giant

drop, drop
the rain is falling
drop, drop


About Sebastian

I am.
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1 Response to It’s so late

  1. Vernice Hoagland says:

    I haven’t read such an thought proviking piece for some time. You’re a remarkable writer.

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