So Was Slow Sunday Poem by Lionara S.t.m.o.l

Pain begets laughter and smile
His pain was painting with Seebeck on Earth
His pain was drowning last night to his drink
And he was heavy but could be silent
His pain was accompanieing a sad story
Inside him was carrying it, his sadness to not seeing
It ate his insides, rotting joys
Until he storied it to a life bird
And the bird sang differently from others
It gave him breath, the youth kiss
So was slow Sunday which relaxation will tell.