Sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose,

Locking me up inside.

With no light seeping through.

My skin turning pale,

My hope being lost.

Leaving me by myself,

A world so alone.

I feel trapped in a prison,

As the wind blows a harsh breeze,

And the trees start to sway on their knees,

Within the surface of the fleeting river,

I see myself sitting in the harsh weather,

As a boy, slouched down in the freeze.

The dust and straws are driven up and down

as the sky darkens from the clouds up high.

It starts to get cooler as the first drop hits the

ground. Then it brings more drops in till it starts

pouring from the clouds above. Some of the drops

The wind is intermitting, dry and light

It rustles the trees and leaves

with silent gracefulness

The eye catches a

glance of the honey auburn leaves

The night world is listening

to every sound echoing