Untitled 01

And above the clouds there is no rain And behind the mirror there is only cardboard Holding together the reflection of what you think you see As perception alters your precipitation Clouded judgement only knowing conditions of rain, hail, or snow The likelihood weighed by chance and there it is, down it comes in the purest form And there you are, sunbathing your wounds Waiting for the rain again Small bits of you wither, escaping the thick atmosphere that surrounds you, flesh ripped away from itself, floating back to its home Minutes turning to hours & finally collapsing into days Crashing in from this high, engulfed by the darkness of extinguished flames Waiting again as minutes turn to hours hoping they collapse into days praying with eyes welled in fear, days form weeks But it begins again, as no rain falls above the clouds because everything must come back