I sat outside my house, to avoid its inside
and be alone to think. I like to think
you see. I like to understand.
The clouds decide to join me, to be part
of my thoughts. Hesitantly, I approve and
they greet me.
The clouds are pure; I wonder why
they come to my slum. So quiet they are,
so delicate they look at first.
The rich clouds then turn gray, a gray so dark
and threatening. I wonder what
I've done to be their victim.
I fall to my knees, and stare at the
blank gray sky which is eager to
let go of its frustration down on me.
And I spoke softly to it, my words fearing
the thunderous clouds. My words mean
nothing and down comes its wrath.
Laughing as the holes invite the drops into
my slum and the cracks to be full of
its tears. It laughs at me.
It roars to let me know its done for now
but it would come back for me to show
its descendancy over me.