Drenched crows, the abnormally self coiffed mango tree Waters splayed through the window shed, then the glasses till it reaches my gloomy thoughts I don't like the rain, neither the rain likes me My maneuver to wash off the past, the rain spoils it all.. all dampened again. The captured kite beguiled by the branches died as thousand drops pierced through its body. The rain reminds me of all the unanswered replies that should have at least countered a "hello". They never got in. I don't like the rain, neither the rain likes me. Still when it rains, when the sky fades, the water-drenched branches turn darker and darker the procession of the raindrops advance down the shed grills, glasses my eyes face the sky and whispers "I waste fewer tears than you do". I don't like the rain, neither she likes me. - by Wreetojyoti
subconscious essays