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My Rain

The rain falls and rises.
I have never been good at swimming and now I’m stuck in an ocean.
Every movement is robotic and meaningless.
They are just habitual motions.
The rain has stopped feeling like kisses on my face, just nails driven into my numbed skin.
I stand under the lightening, fighting the storm of tornadoes within.
The clouds of gray and black and dark cover the heart I had inside.
I will not fall, even though I am drenched, cold, and lost.
How do I hide?
You can’t hide behind a cloud.
To hide behind the fog just confuses your view.
The zombie of thunder comes up again and the tears become few.
When you are scared for so long of being struck and of being suddenly dead,
You stop asking why.
Walk through the haze, not caring what’s been said.
Like the ice that pours from the sky, so is the coldness of my stare.
Not a smile or a glare.
Just those eyes that tell you no one is really there.
The rain falls harder from left and then right.
The sound doesn’t drown out.
I lose the sleep I had at night.
It used to wash me clean, it used to feel so new.
Then I saw the destruction it can really do.
Bring back my rain.
Bring back my breeze.
Nourish the roots again without the tearing wind.
The storms can’t live forever that’s not their nature.
I will flow again, never bend.
I am dying inside, but will live again.
The life will come as sure as the sun light.
God drenches and dries and holds and heals.
He will make it right.
I will stand outside as I always have as the rain falls on my skin.
May the nails become kisses as I learn how to dance again.





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