Why do people hate the rain?
It talks and whispers of their pain?
The leaves quiver as the droplets trickle,
A metaphor of the uneasiness within,
It shows us something real
living in a society where we no longer feel,
Float along with the masses
Admire stangers with zeal
Wonder through the rain that you so hate and despise;
Uplifting emotions and a breath of new life,
Does the damp and cold offend or is it the reminder it provides?
That I am a flesh, and substance governed by -
Something out of my reach, beyond my comprehension,
Questioning my surroundings I ask the rain why.
Examine it\'s form, perplexed pondering my biased interpretation
The essence of life it falls around me,
Humans running and shielding from life
only to enter an unnatural building where they watch the strangers on an unnatural device,
ensuring all traces of the rain are gone.
It saddens me.
The droplets fall from the eyes that viewed the droplets outside. nature?
Reality?
Or dread in the knowledge it is mere construction.
If I no longer accept this physical feeling as the cold, the damp, the wind,
will I find a new certainty within?
My mind spins as I fail to answer. To recategorise the cries of the sky as they fall onto my skin.
I want this to last forever,
I deserve to suffer an eternity of not knowing why this sensation is something we so dread.
For if I know not the true meaning of why I do things,
am I not already dead?