We are the willfully wet,
The participants in the parrying blows
Between land and sky.
The umbrella, the bumbershoot,
The waterproof parasol,
We spit upon.
Raincoats, jackets and hats,
We scorn.
Rubber boots are for the weak
And ungrateful.
The sky cracks its jaw,
Opens to let gravity grasp
What had escaped before
Upwards inn stealthy invisible vapors
Now torn back down in noisy protest,
The clouds refusing to cover for them.
The thunder laughs in bass;
Forked tongues mock the rain's fall.
We witness this disastrous defeat
And tearful turmoil.
We intercept the tragic extraction;
Rivers run down us,
Spared a scant few seconds of freedom.
The ground is lava;
If they can stay in our hair, they will.
We are teh willfully wet,
The shelter for overreacting water.
It will escape again;
It will fly again
And once again we'll participate in the drama.
About the Creator
Lucia Linn
”Some days I feel like playing it smooth and some days I feel like playing it like a waffle iron.” -Raymond Chandler
Bits of fantasy and poetry and whatnot here, comedic comics on Instagram @mostlymecomics
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