What Fate Sees (2)

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

But you’ve drawn me into sad songs
’cause you don’t sing me to sleep in the rain.

Indeed it is clouds
that sorrow oceans make

though clouds disdain
the using of its façade
to hide a face rain.

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’ve composed me into 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 stunt double
makes 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