A Certain Kind of Sadness

Sometimes it’s like rain.

It collects in the sky, with dark clouds gathering,

Looming above you.

You notice it, acknowledge it

And feel it when it comes,

Patting your face lightly, and at times, rather roughly

When it rains down hard,

But it eventually goes away.

It doesn’t drench you,

Although it can, but that’s why you carry an umbrella,

Wear rain boots, a coat,

But that doesn’t matter because it’s there.

And you notice it.


Sometimes it’s like a small river.

It’s more noticeable now,

More powerful.

It wets your feet.

Rushing by a bit faster,

Constantly babbling, flowing

At times you can tune out the sound

And it turns into background noise,

White noise,

And for a while everything seems okay

But that doesn’t matter because it’s there

It’s there.


And sometimes, the rain flows

Into a river

And feeds into an ocean

That is roaring.

The water lashing at the rocks,

Lapping at the shore

Ebbing away at the land.

It’s inescapable now

The waves are crashing in now.

Submerging you, pulling you under,

You never know if the water will push you

Back to the surface,

Never know when the next wave will hit,

Never know how big the next wave will be,

Never know, never know

If you will survive the next one.

And out at sea, there are still storms that brew

With a vengeance

And take everything with it.

Creating a path of destruction,

An ugly aftermath,

That sometimes cannot be fixed.

And you drown.


Tear drops fall from the eyes,


And when you can’t stop

Silently crying by yourself

The tears flow like a river.

And sometimes

When it’s overwhelming, blurring

With no end in sight,

You just want to give in to your own ocean of tears.


But no matter how destructive oceans can be,

There will always be a calm

That quiets you

That is incomparable.


And no matter how mighty a river can be,

There is still life in it, swimming by

And life still flocking to it,

As people gather round near the shores

And it’s no longer babbling,

But chatter and laughter,

A liveliness that can’t be found anywhere else.


And no matter how much gloom a rainy day can bring,

Even greying the days that follow,

There are still puddles to splash through,

There are still worms and small snails that come out

To soak in the rain.

And the sun will always break through,

Bringing the bluest of skies and the whitest of clouds

And the smell of renewed Earth will fill the lungs

And you remember

Life is good

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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