if its hailing boulders?
Weaving through a lightning storm
doesn't seem like some game,
but that is what you are...
a game...
a tricky game where you are always the winner.
You hold the throne to determine the weather
and on your call the wind will blow
as you sit and watch the houses fall to pieces.
If life is your disagreement
then words will be hidden behind rhymes
for the simple hope that your enemy will translate it into critisizm
dropping the world off of your shoulders.
The poets of the world are all guilty as charged.
But if you assume that the sun will come out...
one day, it may,
but thats not until we do the rain dance
to make it want to shine.
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