The Rain On Monday

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


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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