Modern Romanticism

On that dotted line,
unwrite the name
that’s given you blame,
that’s not allowed you
an able opportunity
to ever revise.

When will you
refrain yourself
from compelling
the rain to fall
from the inside?

Storms don’t chase
after your streams,
colored in black.

You are the one
who forever runs
for the clouds.

Straining your song
with your pleas,
with your bargaining.
It’ll remain around
if it helps you
to coincide.

You’ve misused your voice,
dissolved yourself of choice,
deserving always the best
to prefer what’s worst.

Come through
to awaken your eyes
to unfiltered light.

It’ll connect you,
do more to deselect you
from your escape.