Prose

Rains are no longer pure.


Furious rains came down today,
Acidic teardrops corrode, decay,
Skin scald bone, dust wear,
Irrational Animus and fear on display,
Ash plumes, attrition balls in the sky,
Leaves heaved from stalks that die.

(Img.inn)

Nothing to do, the rain wails,
Lost on the trail, words fail me,
And sparrows mourning the dead flew away,

(img.pinterest)

Desert their once fairy merry way,
He stands alone empty and lonely,
The rains are no longer pure.

(img.thetrent)
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