It was raining the other day and i just stood there. i wanted to wash away something from me yet i don't know what i was looking to dispel. i don't know if i'll ever be rid of what drenched into me. let these clouds cry a little more, weep a while longer so i don't have to. drops roll off my fingertips and it feels like what i used to do for fun as a kid in the shower as my imagination ran wild with dreams. cold as ice has now become the norm even if my skin feels too numb to react. i left my phone back home because i am the rain to my own discord. my eyes can barely stay awake at everything my mind wants to do, for everyone my hearts wants to be like. i can screenshot and save a million ideas but they are all locked away in my own pandora's box. so i stand here as the rain washes a little bit of who others are encapsulated in my thoughts. i don't want to forget who i am yet my art takes me to different beautiful yet tragic minds that watercolors into void. i've seen many umbrellas try to be my saving grace but i gently wave them away. maybe i'll be a little bit more of myself when i resume my journey. how long until that happens? it's better to ask how good can the rain wash away foreign minds from my soul?
published in : @ferocemagazine