I need help.
I need to tell a story.
Something that cannot be written.
Something that my eyes hope is free.
I need to learn and give.
The wind never misses the tress as the storm brings you to its knees.
When will everything be right for me?
I must wait and see.
I cannot cry anymore.
I cannot shed a river for an empty valley.
My eyes are no longer mine.
They belong to someone I have never known.
Yet they look at me as if we belong.
They way this hurt is a test for the rain.
Just to see if the walls are high enough.
I should have seen it.
The stares were not blind.
The humming of the signs made my time grim.
Soon it would be time to answer for my crimes.
The sin of the father now lies in the hand of the mother.
Yet the two are just as one.
The sun is now cold.
The words of the mother nature live in my soul.
Hearing the birds sing a song that is not familiar.
Listening to the trees as they whisper my secrets.
Looking at the seeds as they start to bloom.
The nature of love is lacking it nurture to make it.
When will the rain start again?