You Have Not Heard My Story~You haven't heard my story, testimony, my life. My real life. what actually infests my mind upon morning till night. You have no idea what I've been through, the scars I have accumulated, the sacrifices, the lies, the crying... The rain I've smelled... The dew I've touched, my skin caressing the damp leaves.
When I smell the rain, my feet shake with excitement. My blood flow increases to awaken the rest of my body. You haven't heard my story... But when the rain pours down and taps the ground lightly, the title is being read. When the rain pounds the rooftops in plops of tears, its worn cover is being turned over. And when the rain rages and whirls, when the rain's spirit vigorously blankets the land, when Rain Meets Earth and thunder strikes, my story is being read passionately. Pages are flipping and whipping in the sound... But you don't know my story.... And I won't tell you.
I like the smell of rain... It introduces my story... And when it leaves, my story dries and vanishes along with it leaving a slippery mess.. But as a rainstorm, my story will always have a rainbow in sight.. And I love rainbows..
JeuneCirque 18-21, F 8 Responses 10 Jul 29, 2012