Rain
-
Brigette Hosking, Grade 10
-
Poetry
-
2007
Condensation runs down the window,
In a pool of crimson.
The harsh jet clouds gaze at me,
I can feel their mirth.
The hole in my head never seising in its agony,
The diamonds in the grass gather and sympathise,
How I loathe their sympathy.
Bullets fall from the sky
They pierce my skin,
And rip open old wounds.
I issue a piercing scream.
I see Zeus’ weapons; they will devour the earth.
My last thoughts haunt me,
Why?
Why me?
The darkness calls me.
I am at peace.
Brigette Hosking Year 10