Does the sky ever ask the land,
will you let me rain over you?
Have you prepared for my torrent?
It simply breaks open its arms
and pours forth it's grief in
large, splotchy drops,
nonchalantly, almost unapologetic
to both parched and wet earth.
Why did you think I will reign myself in?
Why did you think I must seek your permission to love or hate you?
I will not.
My clouds are burdened with the grief I have hemmed in,
accumulated across heartbreaks in rainstorms.
They cannot hold much longer.
Beware, a storm approaches.
The sky has spoken.
There is only one way this ends.
will you let me rain over you?
Have you prepared for my torrent?
It simply breaks open its arms
and pours forth it's grief in
large, splotchy drops,
nonchalantly, almost unapologetic
to both parched and wet earth.
Why did you think I will reign myself in?
Why did you think I must seek your permission to love or hate you?
I will not.
My clouds are burdened with the grief I have hemmed in,
accumulated across heartbreaks in rainstorms.
They cannot hold much longer.
Beware, a storm approaches.
The sky has spoken.
There is only one way this ends.
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