Cold raindrops on the surface of a puddle
Sending ripples through the broken calm
A reminder of how easily life is disrupted
By what we can expect but never control
No matter how likely the chances are
For clouds to block the struggling sun rays
There's always that inkling of positive doubt
That somehow the sun will break through
Past the grey prisons that hold it captive.
- 2/Jan/2007
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I think I was trying to write something less emotion-driven and more surrounding-inspired. It worked for all of maybe 4 lines and then it was all downhill from there.
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