Eyes closed.
I imagine the rain.
Gray clouds,
beautiful sounds.

The steady syncopation.
A song of its own.
Raindrops screaming to be noticed. 
Thunder telling a story that no one hears.
Lightning giving light to such a dark night.

My eyes might be closed,
but I see the rain drip drip dripping down.
I hear the rain's song.
Opinionated lyrics that only one can interpret for oneself.

Lights out, windows open.
The water finds its way in. 
The droplets see the world from miles above. 
They see what only a rare child can see.
A dying earth and greedy hands.
Beautiful music and whispers of, "I love you."
Dreams and nightmares. 

Why can't we all be a raindrop?
Waiting to tell our story on our way down?
I see the world,
while you ask for more. 
I might be a raindrop, waiting to be heard in a city of lightning and thunder.
You will tell me if I am or not, but then you're hail. A rock that can kill.

Or snow, giving me inspiration.