A bitter rain begins to pour
Distorting a malignant puddle
An indignant struggle
The feelings are utterly poor
A question that clouds the bluest of skies
The downfall of demise
Beneath the overcast doubt
Who am I?
No longer face with identity’s drought
My hopes and dreams faded
With the rain sodden ropes
Of my schemes slips away
The tempest, I premise
The changing winds
Of ranging mind
“Doth suffer a sea-change”
The precipitation ends
With the sweet bouquet of petrichor
Myself betray
To my deepest core
As puddles begin to belie
But, it begin to rain again
But only from my eyes
