Third Person Singular

Thundering skies make me remember the night, when your eyes flashed in agony of pure joy. For every and each drop of that rain I would fight, and have it all again before my heart could ever coy. But time is not a friend, an enemy that all destroy, and the drops still fall on you, hurting me to death. My soul can’t imprint a single power to annoy, and stop the way the drops violate your body path. Hope is all gone as I look what my hand hath, emptiness and loneliness are so concrete to fulfill, the dark and deep hole with my sick and warped breath. I give in, drops of a holy spirit of wrath, I’m ill from what I’ve seen and that anymore I’ll touch, The whole person you now got and love so much.