spring showers
to see the dirt but not feel the hurt
a bit of cleaning 'fore the summer
a sore mood washes out her eye
and the other only softly shut
crying just as much but stuck
to the other end of the spectrum
with blues with violets with indigos it goes
with the ghouls and the ghosts
of regrets passed
drip dropping pouring past that beauty-
mark. her words:
she'll fix this. while fixing her hair
brushing it away from swollen slit
sweeping the dust and bother
a bothersome eye and lips to tremble
a treble yell and not for wolf
beyond, a symphony chamber..
spring showers
to wash away the dirt but still see the hurt
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