What Fate Sees (revision 4)

There have been too many cliché tears shed over the many revisions of this poem. I don’t know how much meaning has been added or washed away in the editing process. This might be the last attempt before I storm out of the room.

What Fate Sees (4)

Once I wrote you a rain song
when soaking-wet you cried.
What became
of the rain?

What reigns over sorrow’s dampness,
if fates of clouds are puffy things
where vitiated drops precipitate
a pitter-patter palaver melody

Into songs you sing me reigning deeply
but you won’t sing me sweetly if it rains

Take heed, it is clouds
that sorrow oceans make

though clouds disdain
to hide with façades
a face rain pained.

draw this fantasy near:
the day’s eye sees sigh-birds,
like Daisy flying high

Been lackadaisical days
since Daisy left, yet
lachrymose skies do hover

’tis her storms that remain always
yes indeed it has; I remember

’twas the evening before the day
when Christmas was canceled that
doom came to day’s eye, and
visions of the night
died down and out:

You left to write.
Stayed away. From afar
you’ve composed me into your sad songs
’cause you don’t sing me anymore

’twas a brain-ache story storm
in a thunder-face rain, oh

Lachrymose Daisy dear, know
I’ve written lachrymal songs ’cause
you don’t sing for me anymore.

The thunder-face rain
fate says to suffer, or
eke out a lachrymal grief

Been trying to believe
you never really cried
never really screamed, and you
were just a character in a song.

I imagine the laughing hyena
is sad sometimes, and
the minor bird doesn’t feel major

they all have a scream
they all have a cry

Is there any way these are
a cathartic dip in the mud
with a wash and dry, no

trying to be in the movie of life
without a fun stunt double
lets falling hurt so much
makes singing turn sour

Let them say
the cartoon version is
funny enough to
laugh and cry and hiccup

But I haven’t seen it yet

Daisy has made me write sad songs
’cause she won’t sing for me anymore

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