To be the mud, the bog, the mire;
To soak the bones in February –
Eons from the autumn shower–
Even from a summer berry!
Sparrows chirp a desperate call,
Darting questions at the cows –
Oblivious to the dousing squall, they
Churn the sludge with pastern ploughs.
The crying air was lost in rhythm:
Drums incessant in the drops;
Not a chance for rainbow...
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I' m sure you all know this feeling...you had a day you want to forget, your mind is complicating things and playing tricks on you, you just want that day to end and you want a fresh start tomorrow, when suddenly , while you are walking home with all this stuff in your head, you realize that it's raining...you smile and you start feeling each...
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Some people feel the rain, others just get wet...
Please give me some twisted ideas for a Steampunk Tattoo Sleeve!