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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1303285
The floating experience of living as observed while laughing in the rain

Laughing in the rain beside my home
Umbrella tipped back like a ladybug’s wing.

Wet wind in my face
My family inside

My cigarette goes out
The door’s new stain is rinsed
A filter and dirt begin their drift.

Beneath my wings the water flows, it has run here before.
My heavy feet cannot be carried
But I have floated since a time ago.

Birth canal to waters of life,
Young I soiled myself and was washed.
Today I change in the baths I run:
Bits of me into a dark drain.

Its unsure what parts went and what stayed
My umbrella above my head remains
Little by little, I am washed
Through the window I see my pops - pretending to sit still.

I let the wind seize my wings and my hair drips with tears of the sky.
The roof is strong, the door still holds,
There’s nothing truly funny about growing old
Still, I laugh in the rain.
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