IT KEEPS RAINING AT SUNDOWN

It was raining at sundown

and there's an essentially resembling pattern to how I feel
a subtle kind of start, the clouds contained
then all at once the Earth turned brown
the tears above soaked the land
the grounds precipitated an outcry
and then I'm sure
the heavens were crying for me,
'cause I could not.
I could no longer shed tears
So the clouds poured everything I struggled to held in.

It keeps raining at sundown
and there's an essentially resembling pattern to how I really feel
the trees rustled in the wind
the leaves floated midair
the wind moved vehemently
then all at once everything was in motion
everything was dancing violently with the wind
except me.
except me.
I am motionless.
I was once equally marked with the same forceful energy
except now I could no longer show it
except now I outgrew it
so the wind did it kindly for me.

It's still raining at sundown
and there's an essentially resembling pattern to how I feel
the thunder was loud
full of angry outburst 
the kind that turned the world weary
inside I am like the thunder
growling in fury, madness even
I'm dying to scream
dying for you to hear
inside I am like the lightning
dying to strike your very bones
into the ground and make you feel the current of my skin.

but.

I couldn't.


It's no longer raining at sundown.
Maybe I have always been like the sunset
silence and sun rays
too feeble at your feet
too numb at your disposal 
too soft at your sighting.




~jen ycong