Mundane Blues
Perhaps it won't rain bullets
But shiny silver pins
And each one would fall
Like ice on our skins.
Just a little electric pain
When a spark shimmers blue.
Just a pinch across the grain
Of our cold finger tips.
Perhaps it would not be
Like being set alight.
Perhaps it would just be
A dim cloudy night.
@ListeningRoses56 I really like how this poem captures that quiet, almost resigned feeling of a grey, dull day. The idea of rain not being bullets but "shiny silver pins" is a nice twist – it’s like the world’s not quite harsh, but still gives you a little sting. It captures that feeling of discomfort, like the world’s just a bit too sharp, but not in an obvious way – more like a dull, constant drizzle that wears you down. The "electric pain" and cold fingertips hit just right, like those little moments of unease that sneak up on you in the middle of a grey, miserable day. It’s got a quiet beauty to it, almost like a subtle reflection on the everyday struggle with the weather – and life in general. Lovely work!