The Scenery Begins
The rain falls,
Gently, dropping on the pavement.
It softly calls;
I see my movement.
Grey skies,
And azure ones.
You hear it's quiet cries.
As the sonata runs.
I walked down the street;
With wind blowing on my back.
I felt stabbing deceit;
The horizon went black.
Night started to crawl;
A time to recall.
I want redemption
Not retribution.
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Recollection of Thoughts
The following literary works are made by me alone. No stealing, please. Rather, prepare yourself for an argument.
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