January Rain
It's the 24th of January,
a rainy Sunday afternoon.
It feels more like spring,
but I know the spell will break,
and soon we'll return to a snowy winter.
The seasons of life and seasons of the soul
revolves in a familiar pattern
over and over again.
Will it ever change?
Can we ever break free?
What if it is a possibility,
but only for yourself?
Would you like to journey alone
in your liberation,
while others keep cycling
round and round?
Now you're marching along
to the beat of a different drum.
And all you wish for
is an understanding friend,
emptiness your favourite companion.
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ramblings from a mysterious mind who thinks that in another life she was probably the fool of queens.
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