He knows the answer but still he will ask, why does the sky cry rain?
Knowing that the clouds carry all our weight and pain.
He ravages the Earth and pierces her with his spear, then asks, what are we doing here?
Feels like our grave. The end was coming anyway, he’ll say.
He says, love has no direction, while spinning in a circle. And he never sets his eyes on her. He’s lost connection. And all of yesterday. It’s just a shame. The answer is always the same.
© Delia Ross. 2020
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