By: evelynpicasso


by: Evelyn Sanchez

The rain was oh so loud.

Splashing against the windows.

I wish it would turn into snow.

But it's not cold enough.



It batters against this old house.

Like bullets to the brain.

As if the house could take all the pain.

It cries in silence.




The creaky old shutters,

fly against the wind.

As if they want to fly away.

Only to be denied.

By it's rusty old nails.

Crusty and moldy.

It holds.

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