The Plea

 My dreams, my thoughts, 

my will, my instincts 

and even my soliloquizes; 

it was always raining

with the power of 

passion drawn from pain,

like cats and dogs 

it fell from sky.

Each drop of a 

different hue bleeding with 

the melancholy of the 

lost mind that's mine. 

My heart is a 

votive meant for thy 

vivid mind, embrace this 

thought for all I ever 

need is your favour.

Save a drowning thought

drenched in the colours

of your laconic refusal.