I dislike being a writer at the present moment. Very very very much. Thank God I'm not an author. It might kill me right now.
As it is, being a writer semi-depresses me. Just. Blech.
RaindropsHow do the raindrops travelRaindrops by ~Storm-of-Angels
In their short reincarnations of life
How many windows have they looked through
And seen grief and sadness and strife?
How many times have they slid done the glass
To reflect their brothers on the faces inside?
I ask how many
But more importantly
How many more faces hyave they brought to life?
Coupled with smiles and laughter
For the husband and his new wife
For the mother and her new daughter
How many times has the laughter been loud;
Loud and long and clear
So that tears springing forth are all you can see
And the laughter spilled forth is all you can hear?
Though the life of these droplets is short
For it seems