Poetry, Quill

Rainfall

I sometimes like to walk in the rain,
I find myself being me.

Hundreds of thousands of drops of paint,
What is this freedom I breathe?

And then shhh silence,
No fall anymore.

Penchant for sadness,
Never was I sure.

Finish this wonder,
Be gone, my love.

Bring back my teardrops,
My pearls from above.

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