When darkness is all that one can see,
Skin becomes pale and senses high.
When light is revealed, One who has been in darkness for so long now looks away as if hurt,
Shunning ability, running away from possibility.
Darkness brings isolation, in turn bringing madness.
Forever ago was One's sadness.
Now in light, One feels pain,
As they walk and disappear in the rain.
Out on a limb with no way down,
Hiding behind the face of a clown,
A joker in a sea of blue,
To realize that none of it is true.
I guide and direct with precision and ease,
Good God, show me the light, God, please...
A lightened bomb, a shortening fuse,
I'm not much of a person to lose.
Out of sight, out of mind,
All of you bastards are fucking blind.
Laughing and joking, keeping the 'peace',
And my silence is broken with a powerful release
Of words and stories and poems galore.
But sadly, this is the end of my poem. There is no more.
Every drop of rain that has or ever will fall is a single second of a life, counting away minutes of the lives lost. If a storm is heavy, then thousands of people have died since the last time it rained. The people who love the rain should be considered ruthless killers for liking the cold feeling the rain brings. Many are like that. Few realize the symbolisim of rain. While most are thought to be death-loving souls, I love the rain because of its beauty. It may count lost lives, but it brings them anew in the form of nature. The flowers and plants that bloom from the ground because of the rain mark the new lives after the rain has past. I think the rain is beautiful as opposed to the sun, for as a flower may need light, it also needs rain, and I think that the rain is more gentle. The rain is soft upon the petals, making them dance in crystal, while the sun may make them crinkle and dry. Water from the heavens is a curse and a blessing, and is thought of as such.