The Raindrops cry.


Listen to the sound of the trees,
They mimic like a child,
The wind like there mother the sway like there father,
I hear them cry,
Teardrops or Raindrops,
Samething anyway,
The pitter patter as her first steps grace the world,
the same as the rain comes down,
Soaking in the innocence,
sending it back to the atmosphere,
Like someones last breathe,
I breathe in the smell of past and previous lives,
shadows and auras and spectors,the same,
I breathe in Life not death.

The End

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