The Downpour

Unfortunately,

Not every day

Can be perfectly baked

In eternal sunshine

And gently swaddled

In unicorn stampedes.

Most days,

Especially those

That fall during

The work week,

Tend to be

Annoyingly riddled

With wild wildebeests

Hellbent on

Rampaging through

The one lane tunnel

That has somehow become

The only route

To peace of mind.

Whenever I find myself

Wandering alone

In a section of

My mind

Not known

For being

The most positive

Of neighborhoods,

I brace myself

For the downpour.

The dark clouds,

Harbingers of bad experiences

Yet destined to haunt me,

Are not the primary

Warning sign

Of the mighty,

Approaching storm.

Ironically,

I know

The rains

Are coming

When I allow myself

A fleeting moment

Of that great Judas

Better known to me

As contentment.

A positive thought

A day

Can’t possibly keep

The downpour away.

In fact,

It only hastens

Its inevitable

Arrival.

Ask not

For whom the

Thunder rolls,

Simply assume

That the downpour

Has come for you.

To wash

That smile off

Your relaxed face,

And drown any

Self-confidence

You foolishly assumed

Was your new armor

Against the mighty

Dragon of reality

That awaits you

Around any random corner.

Dare to dream,

My starry eyed waif,

But be prepared

To suffer the

Harrowing consequences.

When the downpour arrives,

You will be

The sole target

Of its

Obsessive compulsive

Obscurities.

This is why

I never leave home

Without my worst moods

Tucked away

Inside my umbrella

For safe keeping.