by Anease Lacaze

Created on: October 25, 2008

The clouds are coming-

they always do. Grey and blue,

they encircle my space- swirling,

fading from one place to the next.

Driving rain forces its way down

my face- down my cheeks.

I'm used to the rain though.

My mind- it rains. And with each

new storm, my life begins anew.

Torment guides my fleeting thoughts.

Geysers emerge. Tears well.

I'm not sure I can bare even one more

day. For I cannot see beyond right now.

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