torrential rains pour over my head. the grey sky is downcast and depressed, a sole reflection of me. but I hold her hand and praise her with my lips in hope of sunny skies.
Megan
There’s something there, sitting under a torrent of rain, especially in a car going too slow, driver searching for a hint of taillights amidst the rushing water. An odd, calm silence descends over the car, the urge to give the driver focus, sure, but also in fear of the water. People have died for less. People will die from less. It is easy to think how things would be different, if you were out there instead, the rain beating circles into your body like a pressure washer, vision blank, road stretching on for miles.
rain
gushed
in torrents
down the streets.
my socks were wet,
my hair drenched
in autumn-smelling
beads.
the gloomy
november night
embeded
cold into
my bones
and
i felt a
winter gust
whisper
in my ear:
i’m back
to haunt
you and your
locked up
fears.
This month has been like a torrent in my brain it won’t stop it can’t stop because if it does stop then my dad’s brain stops but I have all these people around me who want to help but they don’t know how and I’m lost
I just want him to be okay but he won’t be. It’s terminal. Why now when he’s finally enjoying life?
Rose
This month has been like a torrent in my brain it won’t stop it can’t stop because if it does stop and my dad’s brain stops but I have all these people around me who want to help but they don’t know how and I’m lost
I just want him to be okay
torrential rains pour over my head. the grey sky is downcast and depressed, a sole reflection of me. but I hold her hand and praise her with my lips in hope of sunny skies.
There’s something there, sitting under a torrent of rain, especially in a car going too slow, driver searching for a hint of taillights amidst the rushing water. An odd, calm silence descends over the car, the urge to give the driver focus, sure, but also in fear of the water. People have died for less. People will die from less. It is easy to think how things would be different, if you were out there instead, the rain beating circles into your body like a pressure washer, vision blank, road stretching on for miles.
rain
gushed
in torrents
down the streets.
my socks were wet,
my hair drenched
in autumn-smelling
beads.
the gloomy
november night
embeded
cold into
my bones
and
i felt a
winter gust
whisper
in my ear:
i’m back
to haunt
you and your
locked up
fears.
This month has been like a torrent in my brain it won’t stop it can’t stop because if it does stop then my dad’s brain stops but I have all these people around me who want to help but they don’t know how and I’m lost
I just want him to be okay but he won’t be. It’s terminal. Why now when he’s finally enjoying life?
This month has been like a torrent in my brain it won’t stop it can’t stop because if it does stop and my dad’s brain stops but I have all these people around me who want to help but they don’t know how and I’m lost
I just want him to be okay
chatgpot