Mercy, Wind!
The wind howls its pity for me
In a high-pitched lament,
Of sorrow and angst.
I yell back my protestations,
In a mass of black mascara
That cries out for independence.
Leave me alone,
And I'll be just fine--
The wind's sympathy just hurts.
It reminds me of my needs
In a reply of hushed blowing,
That I cannot seem to ignore.
I sob back with an intensity
Of sitting in the dark closet,
But the wind's care drowns me out.
Finally, some compassion and empathy,
And all I can seem to do is cry more;
The wind is no longer the one hurting me.
In a high-pitched lament,
Of sorrow and angst.
I yell back my protestations,
In a mass of black mascara
That cries out for independence.
Leave me alone,
And I'll be just fine--
The wind's sympathy just hurts.
It reminds me of my needs
In a reply of hushed blowing,
That I cannot seem to ignore.
I sob back with an intensity
Of sitting in the dark closet,
But the wind's care drowns me out.
Finally, some compassion and empathy,
And all I can seem to do is cry more;
The wind is no longer the one hurting me.