Well, it kind of hurts when the kind of words you say
Kind of turn themselves into blades
And the kind and courteous is a life I’ve heard
But it’s nice to say that we played in the dirt, oh dear
‘Cause here we are, here we are.



The sky is dark


The thunder



The rain falls

Cold, biting.

It washes me clean.

I feel my sorrows fade

I feel my past recede.

My muscles and sinews loosen

I flow away with the rain

Until there is nothing left –

To feel, to be, to want.


I am gone.