Gathered Rain From Crying Eyes Poem by gregory collins

If the way of the world, and how painful it is to not be suffering;
Like the wonderful puddles that form out of dreams which drip

into reality which pour into illusions. But if the way of the world
has you thinking of jumping. Make sure there is enough gathered

rain from crying eyes, to ease your worried mind by never reaching
the final page. As fate is a strangers dream dreaming of a stranger,

and the hardest thing to do is wait and watch flowers grow. Because
you need a place where you can hide. A place where some things

we may never see again. But the outline still remains. The fact that
me telling you this is purposeless, if you have betrayed its colors

even after death, even after you are gone without a trace: Gone
as uninterrupted as the ocean, and i flee, and refuse the shelter

of my own heart. I hide in your tomb not knowing the days or months.