you were born to be a rainstorm,
to send your voice throughout the night,
to sing your song with falling raindrops,
to break the darkeness with your light,
you were born to show raw beauty,
to wash the dirt out from their eyes,
but the whole world ran for cover,
when you opened up your skies,
so you made your thunder silent,
and learnt to bite your rainy tongue,
you gave them what they thought they wanted,
you gave them life with endless sun,
but as they watched their lives grow weaker,
watched as their leaves turned brown and dry,
they wished they didn’t take for granted,
your booming presence in the sky,
you were born to be a rainstorm,
to be chaotic and be bold,
to show there’s beauty in the knowledge,
that you cannot be controlled,
because you might think you’re not needed,
life without you is the same,
but nothing beautiful would ever grow,
if it wasn’t washed with rain.
e.h. via—
—
i loved her
not for the way
she danced
with my angels
but for the way
the sound of her name
could silence
my demons
-christopher poindexter