There's a ball in my head, twisting through the words that you haven't said

And repeating any lingering questions

As to why the sun only shines on days when smiling seems so right.

Today, it'll storm again,

The thunder crashing beneath my feet

As I run to greet the angry day, or weep underneath the downpour.

While my rain boots squeak again,

Pulling my feet into another blister,

As if it's any wonder as to why I hardly bother to puddle jump

Anymore.