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If it ever bloody rains by Ivan Donn Carswell
I never said I would, I only said I could do what you wished, the subtle difference should have raised a cautious flag; maybe I bragged out loud, made it sound as if it was intent, I never meant to make it seem that way. So today I wear your brittle animosity – just out of curiosity, how do you manage that? It smacks me to the core, though I’ve felt it thus before I’ve never managed yet to live at ease with towering dread that’s leaden in your steely, silent gaze. I suppose my only road is plea of raw insanity, I’m bruised and battered from a false belief that rain would fall and give relief, that you would see the consequence of acting out too soon. I should tilt the moon, I knew you’d never fall for that. Alright, I’ll clean the goddamn drains; God forbid, if it ever bloody rains I’ll take the chance and also dance a naked jig. © I.D. Carswell
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