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Rain On My Parade
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Soul Poetry Misty droplets fall,
down in quickened pace,
following teary paths,
that trail along my face.
Weatherman said, 'sun',
but it was just a lie.
For there are always rainy days,
whenever I start to cry.
With no covering, no overhang,
no umbrella above my head,
I am drenched, through and through,
from those stormy clouds that bled.
I'm sure someday I'll drown,
in nature's cruel charade,
because I know that without fail,
there's rain on my parade.
