Tempest

The rain did pour today. The weather forecast turned out to be accurate. But frankly, checking it wouldn’t be necessary. I already figured the drizzle would fall upon my head and made my hair damp.

I’ve been holding it since I shifted from my long slumber. My chest feels sore, my throat ached, as if there’s some form of whimsical feeling that needed to be released. Perhaps it grew tired of hiding behind the smile and hilarity.

And it happened. The tears seeps out to my cheeks whilst the rain descends helplessly on my roof. Breathing becomes an arduous thing to do. I didn’t put it in halt. Letting it show its brittle shape.

I always believe that we human are a fragment of something so tremendous. A collection of puzzle pieces that complete each other when they perfectly arranged. It might disclosed why the weather and I move in sync.

But perhaps it was because the rain season prompted the air drops to fall.

Maybe human ceaselessly disheartened me to the point where my heart is too jaded to cradle the anguish.

Still and all, I regard, the possibility is there.