I Wrote This? Poem by Desiree Whitamore

the greyness in their eyes are like the storms above your head.
the cloud that reeks of rain follows you around the clock of life.
ticking slowly, ever..so...slowly.
they're your family and you've always gotten the short end of the stick.
a shout from below deepens the sobs,
and the shout from above, well, you havent heard that for a while.
they'll always be there for the cloud and you.
they'll always cry for your pain.
understanding might be hard for them,
but you can get them through.