Thunder rolls in near distance
Marching with evil persistence
Back once more from the brink
Nothing left in the bottle to drink

Tempt me with your storm
It’s all just part of the norm
Don’t think of holding back
Until the sky is beautifully black

This isn’t the first time I’ve asked
On my other prayers you passed
You’d better get it right this time
I’m no longer in my youthful prime

Need to feel it in my heart and bones
Hear wind scream its troubled moans
Let the cold, sweet rain rinse my sins
It’s not over until the flooding begins

This cursed famine needs a flood
There’s too much dried old blood
Give me plenty of torrential rain
Wash away the pretty scars of pain.

A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 09-02-20

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