WastedWasted11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
pour out your bloody ink in some faint rhythmic whine
while the dark, thick rain falls endlessly to earth:
the night sky is still the night sky,
and like all things it will continue.
though your blood may rush and roar like water
until in a faint whisper you finally run dry:
still the stars endure and the rain falls,
and will go on falling.
go on and make your thin poetic moan
and cut, and cry, and shake your tiny fist at the sky
but rain is the blood of the stars,
and they have no sympathy for you.