Third Person Singular
Thundering skies make me remember the night,
when your eyes flashed in agony of pure joy.
For every and each drop of that rain I would fight,
and have it all again before my heart could ever coy.
But time is not a friend, an enemy that all destroy,
and the drops still fall on you, hurting me to death.
My soul can’t imprint a single power to annoy,
and stop the way the drops violate your body path.
Hope is all gone as I look what my hand hath,
emptiness and loneliness are so concrete to fulfill,
the dark and deep hole with my sick and warped breath.
I give in, drops of a holy spirit of wrath, I’m ill
from what I’ve seen and that anymore I’ll touch,
The whole person you now got and love so much.
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