Rain On My Parade

Soul Poetry

Misty droplets fall,

down in quickened pace,

following teary paths,

that trail along my face.

Weatherman said, 'sun',

but it was just a lie.

For there are always rainy days,

whenever I start to cry.

With no covering, no overhang,

no umbrella above my head,

I am drenched, through and through,

from those stormy clouds that bled.

I'm sure someday I'll drown,

in nature's cruel charade,

because I know that without fail,

there's rain on my parade.

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