The Rain On Monday

Written words are the only thing my mind can find ease in.

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14. To Lie

The winter life is fading and the spring is just as dead -

“Depression isn’t real,” she said, “It’s all inside my head.”

The outside world is different, too different from afar -

“Sometimes life is perfect,” she said, “But sometimes it is hard.”

The grass is never green, the sky is never blue;

“I hate the way it’s cloudy when I’m thinking about you.”

The sun has turned away from Earth for it’s given up on life;

“I think that existence would be better if there weren’t any strife.”

If it’s always darkest before the dawn then why do I feel so alone?

“At night I thought I heard you scream, but it was silenced by the cars’ drone.”

The trees are dull and the sky is just as plain -

“You’re better off by yourself and not knowing my name.”

The moon is forever young, yet it seems too old and profound -

“The geese outside are indifferent; they make too much of a sound.”

In my life I was very lucky, yet I feel so very weak;

“It was best it wasn’t wasted, let alone you’re very meek.”

Inside this world lain a perfect parallel side -

“All of which was broken, when everybody lied.”

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