Re: PlyRe: Ply
Pushing this change to cycle the earth.
I don't need your beauty or your love.
I'll shield myself from the skies above.
To bury my disease under the rain.
Rooftops glisten in sparkling heaves:
A downpour that whispers the leaves.
After the drought I've had to survive.
Basking in thunder's angry heartbeat,
I take the pain in my fist, and delete.
As the storm ends, the cycle departs.
High above the wind's call, so shrill;
Never again will I bend to its will.
My heart retires now; it's just fine.
I'll stand my ground when you return.
Lightning left this fire behind to burn.